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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27051868">How Not to Die While Murdering One's Siblings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelonelywallflower/pseuds/littlelonelywallflower'>littlelonelywallflower</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Violence, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Minor Character Death, No one deals with their shit in a healthy way, Non-Consensual Touching, Organized Crime, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stray Kids are Family, fun time had by no one</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:09:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>102,999</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27051868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelonelywallflower/pseuds/littlelonelywallflower</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>JYP is dead. The leader of the criminal empire of Seoul is dead. </p><p>Which is great news for everyone involved, except maybe his lawyer, but he won't live long enough to mourn the lack of extra money lining his pockets because JYP left behind five children. All adopted (although adopted is used in the loosest legal sense of the word in this case), all trained up in his ways. Murderous, thieving, and dishonest, though never impolite. </p><p>Bang Chan never wanted the throne. Unfortunately, any other claim to said throne is a threat to the legitimacy of another's reign, which means even if he refuses to fight, he and those close to him are as good as dead. That gives him only one option: to secure his father's legacy and take out his siblings before they took out him. </p><p>Simple.</p><p>For that, he needed a team. </p><p>Not so simple, apparently.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>224</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Burying a Rat and the Last Peaceful Family Get-Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TW: blood, minor character death</p><p>If I miss anything that's potentially triggering, just let me know, ya'll and I'll add it. </p><p>/////</p><p>In which siblings bicker, commit murder, and bury a rat.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was no mourning the night Park Jinyoung, or JYP, was killed. To those who didn’t know him, a dangerous mobster was off the streets. To those who did know him, he had met the end he had always been destined to meet eventually. An end they all would likely meet. And those who knew him, didn’t truly hold much more than a begrudging respect for him. The ones he called his children held him in even less regard. They only showed up to the funeral because the will reading was directly after. The old man was one to be old fashioned and have his will read aloud.</p>
<p>Chan shucked off his coat and gloves as he took a seat in the old family dining room. The dusty chairs hadn’t been used in a long time and creaked under the weight he’d gained since last sitting at the table five years ago. The table still bore the evidence of stab wounds and stains that were a regular occurrence in their irregular household. To his memory, there hadn’t been a full family dinner without a little bloodshed. It desensitized them to the family business. There was no use in having an heir that flinched at the sound of a gone or fainted at the sight of blood. </p>
<p>Or at least, that had been the old man’s philosophy. One of many. He valued many things that would be frowned upon by child services. Dinner conversations were more a game of two truths and a lie than anything else. It bred trust issues, sure, childhood trauma did that to nearly everyone, but it also made every single one of them excellent liars. Much to the dismay of any school teacher they had. Because their father also taught them manners and politeness. They would lie with a ‘yes, sir’ and a polite bow. </p>
<p>As a child, Chan always wondered why people would eat up the lies his father and siblings told again and again. Good people and bad people alike would suckle every drop of it. Good people saw it as another kindred spirit. Bad people saw it a mark to underestimate. Both were good positions to have. </p>
<p>And his family always controlled the high ground, even when it appeared they were barring their necks. </p>
<p>He watched with muted interest as his other siblings filed in. </p>
<p>Three older. One younger. All dressed in black, but none of them wearing an expression of mourning.</p>
<p>Truthfully speaking, none of them were related by blood. Chan wasn’t even born in the country. And they certainly shared a very strained bond if there was one to be found between them. They might kill another person for laying hands on one of the other four, but there was no guaranteeing that they wouldn’t do the deed themselves either. </p>
<p>They all sat with a seat between them, silently taking their place at their unspoken positions at the table. Everyone knew it was in order of favorites. The old man was never shy about that. In fact he would readily say so if one wasn’t living up to his insurmountable expectations.</p>
<p>The family lawyer came in behind them and closed the door, turning the key in the lock and effectively sealing them into the small dining room for the foreseeable future. </p>
<p>Mr. Jung was a weaselly old man, only loyal to the comfort his loyalty to the family afforded him. But as their father explained, it was easy to control people like him. You just gave them what they wanted from you: money, protection, letters of recommendation for their kids, and they would turn a blind eye to the shady shit. And Mr. Jung had done that job beautifully. </p>
<p>He cleared his throat. </p>
<p>“Good afternoon.” He started, pulling up his briefcase onto the table and snapping the latches open. “This is an unfortunate occasion to be gathered, and I give you all my condolences. It is my job, however, to honor your father’s wishes and bestow to the five of you what he designated before his passing.”</p>
<p>None of them made much of a show of looking mournful. In a room full of equally adept liars, there was no reason too. They could see through each other. And it didn’t seem as though Mr. Jung truly believed that they needed condolences. Likely he probably did it out of the habitual respect that he had granted their father before his death. </p>
<p>“He asked that you all be gathered for this reading. Any not in attendance will forfeit their portion of their inheritance. But it seems that everyone has come.” He said, looking out over the five faces. </p>
<p>While Jung went into the legal jargon he was required to spout, Chan took a look around at the siblings he hadn’t seen for five years. It appeared they were doing the same, as Chan met with Jihyo’s eyes. She’d always been intimidating, but it appeared time had helped her grow into those features even more since the last time Chan had seen her. They were the same age, brought in three years apart. They were one another’s equal and opposite rivals when it came to favor in their father’s household. </p>
<p>Beside Jihyo was Jaebeom. He was older than the two of them by a couple years, though not the eldest of the five of them. It seemed his freedom had given him license to let his hair grow out beyond the regulation cut their father had them don for ‘purposes of looking respectable in society’. From what Chan had heard through the whispers that reached him was that Jaebeom had set up shop in less respectable circles. Still, it seemed as though he’d found success there because from the tailored pinstripe his brother was wearing, he was clearly not wanting for money. </p>
<p>Further down near the end of the table was the final addition to the JYP Family, Hwang Yeji. Three years his junior, Chan was not as well read on her expressions and body language, but then again, she’d been a difficult read even for their father who prided himself on the ability. Perhaps that was why he took her in so long after the others. She looked just as lethal now as she had when she’d first arrived at the estate, perhaps more so with the extra centimeters. Or perhaps Chan had just  been privy to just how well she could incapacitate someone with her bare hands. </p>
<p>Finally, sat beside Chan was the eldest of them. The eldest child of Park Jinyoung went by a variety of names depending on where his business took him. Brian when he went stateside. Younghyun when he was back home. And Young K, was for his enemies, a boogie man that kept everyone in line. While sharing the same body, only Young K had a file, but there was never a face to attach to it. Just a wicked smile and the flash of a knife. Chan had the feeling that it was Young K that had come to this particular meeting. </p>
<p>There was a throne open, with five heirs. The power vacuum needed to be filled. One of them would fill it, which meant that the other four with a claim to it had to be dispatched. They’d all walked into the room with the knowledge that this was the last stalemate between siblings. Only one of them would survive the power struggle. </p>
<p>“Now, to Park Jihyo, it reads ‘I give a sum of ten billion won to a separate account to be entrusted to Park Jihyo. As well as the estate of Penthouse 230-59, located in Yangcheon, Seoul, to Park Jihyo until the time of her death.’” Mr. Jung read, his reading glasses now perched on the end of his sweaty nose. “I’ve been entrusted with the key for the private elevator to give to you.”</p>
<p>He pulled a small yellow envelope from his briefcase and handed it to Jihyo reverently. She smiled politely, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead her expression seemed one of calculation about exactly how her inheritance would be used. There was no time to be wasted in planning, or at least, that had always been her philosophy since Chan had known her. </p>
<p>“Next we have Im Jaebeom, it reads, ‘I give a sum of ten billion won to a separate account to be entrusted to Im Jaebeom. As well as the estate of Penthouse 1222-201, located in Songpa, Seoul, to Im Jaebeom until the time of his death.’”</p>
<p>Mr. Jung pulled out a similar envelope and moved around the table to hand it to Jaebeom, who forewent the formalities for a subtle nod as he received the key. He tucked it neatly into his suit jacket. As the fabric fell back into place, Chan saw the glint of gun strapped beneath the jacket. That didn’t shock him all that much. They were all paranoid, a product of their shared childhood experiences. And it wasn’t as though Chan didn’t have knives up his own sleeves or tucked into his own boots. </p>
<p>“To Bang Chan, it reads, ‘I give a sum of ten billion won to a separate account to be entrusted to Bang ‘Christopher’ Chan. As well as the estate of Penthouse 998-42, located in Gangnam, Seoul, to Bang ‘Christopher’ Chan until the time of his death.’”</p>
<p>The same procedure as the first two played out as Mr. Jung pressed a near identical envelope into Chan’s palm. The instinctive politeness kicked in and he smiled, not wide or bright enough to be inappropriate for the setting, but enough to be nice. The back of his neck was aware of the four sets of eyes watching him as he slid the envelope into his breast pocket and resecured the button. </p>
<p>“To Kang Younghyun, it reads, ‘I give a sum of ten billion won to a separate account to be entrusted to Kang Younghyun. As well as the estate of Penthouse 303-52 located in Eunpyeong, Seoul, to Kang Younghyun until the time of his death’.” </p>
<p>Another key. Another show of politeness. </p>
<p>“Finally, to Hwang Yeji, it reads ‘I give a sum of ten billion won to a separate account to be entrusted to Hwang Yeji. As well as the estate of Penthouse 9091-83, located in Nowon, Seoul, to Hwang Yeji until the time of her death’.”</p>
<p>The final key was given and Mr. Jung returned to his place at the head of the table. </p>
<p>“To finish up, your father’s other assets, such as vehicles, pets, or any personal items of his that he specified for any one of you have been delivered to the addresses previously stated. If you have any questions or concerns regarding your inheritance, you know my number, do not hesitate to call me and I will be sure to have the matter sorted with haste.” Mr. Jung said, snapping his briefcase closed. “This estate will be put in the care of Miss Lee Sunmi and her associates. Are there any questions that I can address now while we are all gathered.”</p>
<p>There was a breath of silence that Mr. Jung clearly took to mean that there were none. </p>
<p>“I have a question, Mr. Jung.” Jihyo said, her voice cutting through the silence sharply. </p>
<p>Caught off guard, Mr. Jung cleared his throat in order to save some dignity and buy some time. “Yes, of course, Miss Park, go ahead.”</p>
<p>Jihyo stood up, the chair scraping against the hardwood floor. </p>
<p>She smoothed the fabric of the understated black dress she’d donned for the occasion. </p>
<p>“Mr. Jung, I think I can speak for everyone here when I say that you served our father well.” She started. “My question is, now that he has passed and his will has been served, what use are you to us?”</p>
<p>She said all of this with a businesslike expression on her face, her hands folded in front of her, as though she were discussing profit margins at a board meeting.</p>
<p>Chan smothered a smirk as he watched the lawyer squirm under Jihyo’s expectant stare.</p>
<p>“We are still paying you, aren’t we?” She said, taking a step forward. “One cannot be a servant of two masters, or five. You were loyal to our father, but you cannot be loyal to all of us, and I for one do not trust you with my secrets. I know my brothers and sisters have their own ways of dealing with the services you provided our father. With our father dead and buried, how can we guarantee the safety of our family’s more sensitive matters?”</p>
<p>“I promise you I am loyal to your family as I was to your father.” Mr. Jung stuttered taking a step back from Jihyo. “I can make myself-“</p>
<p>As quick as the flick of a light-switch, Mr. Jung was cut off with a flash of silver from the knife that had appeared in Jihyo’s hand. His eyes widened just before he collapsed onto the wooden floor of the dining room. Blood sprayed from his severed vein, splattering across the table and chairs like a macabre piece of artwork that has missed the canvas. </p>
<p>Chan wiped the droplets of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand and stood up, grabbing his coat and gloves as he rose. </p>
<p>“There wasn’t a neater way to do that?” Jaebeom asked coolly, pulling a handkerchief from his suit coat pocket and wiping the traces of blood away. </p>
<p>The knife Jihyo had wielded had since vanished again. Somehow she’d avoided most of the blood, except that of which was now pooling at her feet, which clearly meant she had planned to do this, no matter what the slimeball had said. </p>
<p>She looked down at the body with vacant sympathy. “I’ll take a thank you.”</p>
<p>“I’ll buy you a drink, sis.” Younghyun said from his seat, that sharp and feral smile baring his teeth. </p>
<p>Jihyo raised a well-kept brow and scoffed. “Not on your life.”</p>
<p>Younghyun was not thrown off by her comment, instead he clapped his hands and stood up. “One last family fieldtrip to take care of the mess our sweet Little Jihyo made then? For old time’s sake?”</p>
<p>“I doubt the new caretakers would like this particular house-warming gift.” Yeji said with a sigh as though this were just a particularly tedious task that had to be done. “He wasn’t even dead and he smelled foul.”</p>
<p>“Rats aren’t known to smell like rose petals.” Jaebeom replied, moving over to inspect what work had to be done to clear up the body on their dining room floor. </p>
<p>“Well, Channie,” Younghyun said, an arm thrown heavily across Chan’s shoulders. “What do you say? You’ve been rather quiet. Not that I mind, but it is odd from you.”</p>
<p>Before answering, Chan caught Younghyun’s wrist as it swiped up toward him, twisting it to force the knife in his hand to clatter to the ground. Jaebeom and Jihyo looked up with mild interest, not enough to intervene, but enough to be curious about how the next seconds would play out. It didn’t appear that Yeji was paying it any mind at all, instead focused on whatever was happening on her phone.</p>
<p>“I think you should stop being so obvious when trying to kill me.” Chan said in English, bending down to grab the knife and handing it back to his brother. </p>
<p>Younghyun grabbed Chan’s collar and forced him closer, hissing in his ear in the same language, “If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead, little brother. Killing you now wouldn’t be nearly enough fun. When I kill all of you, I want to enjoy every second.”</p>
<p>Normally threats on someone’s life would shake them, but he’d been poisoned over breaking someone’s favorite mug and had many legitimate threats on his life from the members of his family that it hardly ruffled a feather anymore. This was as common as a hug would be in a normal family. </p>
<p>Chan returned the grip. “I think you’ll regret not finishing me off now.”</p>
<p>“I don’t doubt it.” Younghyun said with a feral grin, pulling away and smoothing out the wrinkles from Chan’s shirt. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t still be fun.”</p>
<p>Chan didn’t entertain him with another retort, instead pulling on his coat and gloves. </p>
<p>“Same procedure then?” Chan said, switching back to their shared tongue, moving past Younghyun to the dead weight at the head of the table that they had to deal with. </p>
<p>“I’ve got my trunk lined already; we can use my car.” Yeji said, finishing what she was typing before slipping he phone into the pocket of her slacks. “Unless someone already cut the break-lines on the way in. In which case, we should probably take someone else’s.”</p>
<p>“Do you really think so little of us?” Younghyun asked with enough saccharine in his voice to give a bull a heart attack. </p>
<p>“Even less.” </p>
<p>They all stood circled around the dead body, clear of the blood with the exception of Jihyo, who didn’t seem to care since her shoes were already ruined.</p>
<p>“Who knew that was possible?” Jihyo said, nudging Mr. Jung’s body with her toe as if she were a cat trying to test if he were truly dead. “So, Yeji’s car then. Anyone want to volunteer to find some roadkill?”</p>
<p>And so they did what was perhaps the best family bonding experience on earth, disposing of a corpse. Though with their body count, it was so old hat that bonding wasn’t likely to happen. They worked with a machine like efficiency that hadn’t rusted over the five years apart. Drain the body of blood. Someone hacked up the limbs, while the others deep cleaned the dining room. Limbs went in a bag, and then another bag. Torso got the same treatment. As did the head. Anywhere the body had been was scrubbed and the bathroom where the hacking took place was scourged within an inch of its life. They went to a cemetery outside of the city and found a freshly dug grave. After digging it back up, they threw the bags in before putting a foot or two of dirt on top, sprinkling some strong spices on top of that dirt. Then it was time for the roadkill, which they placed one on top of the first layer before piling most of the rest on and giving the other dead animal a shallow grave with only a thin layer of dirt to cover it. </p>
<p>They stood around the grave sweating and dirty, fingers raw and blistered, before piling back into the car. It was a lot of effort for someone that probably wouldn’t be found, at least for a while. But over preparing was better than getting caught. </p>
<p>When they got back, the clothes were burned, and the ashes were buried in the back garden. Jihyo texted Mr. Jung’s wife with the dead man’s phone saying that he had to catch a last minute flight to meet with a client, he’d be back the following Monday. Younghyun booked a ticket with Mr. Jung’s card through his phone, while Jaebeom hacked into the airport security cameras through Mr. Jung’s laptop to deep-fake the man entering and boarding said flight. Their own security tapes were scrubbed, frying the whole system to make it appear as though it was an electricity surge that had corrupted all of their footage. With some backlogging on the lawyers schedule and the addition of some compromising photos and videos to the man’s phone and computer, Chan set the GPS for the airport, the exact opposite direction of the cemetery and ditched the vehicle at a dump. Beforehand, he’d changed out the plates to a stolen set in case Jaebeom didn’t keep his word to black out the cameras at the dumpsite.</p>
<p>After the deed was done, they all parted ways toward their inherited estate to prepare for the oncoming storm.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Single-Parenting a Troubled Youth and the Final Night of Peace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Chan picks up his kid from day-care and moves into his new apartment.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the drive to his new residence, Chan made a call. He had exactly three contacts in his phone, one of which he needed to delete since they would no longer be in the business of taking calls any longer. The other two were perhaps the only people that he trusted. A sad state of life to be in, but it was regretfully the state he was in. There would be no getting out of it either on the path he had been set down. </p><p>The line, fed through the car’s speakers, rang twice before it was picked up. </p><p>“Hey, how’d the funeral go? Did you bring me back a goody bag?” Jisung asked, sounding out of breath. </p><p>“Where are you now?”</p><p>“Running.”</p><p>“From what?”</p><p>“I can’t run for pleasure?” He asked indignantly, or at least tried to sound indignant. </p><p>“The earth would split open if you ran any distance for pleasure.” Chan responded. </p><p>“Fair enough.” Jisung amended. “I’m running from Serve and Protect, to answer your question. Though more Serve than Protect. It seems Protect does even less distance training than I do.”</p><p>Chan resisted the urge to groan, settling for a disappointed sigh instead. “Should I bother asking why?”</p><p>“Apparently they don’t like it when you break into their cars and reprogram their sirens to play the circus theme song.” Jisung said, sounding like he was throwing that particular statement toward his friends behind him. “It’s not as though they had much dignity to lose anyway.”</p><p>“Can you lose them and meet me somewhere?” Chan asked, making a turn without taking a glance at the traffic light. At least he’d used his signal. </p><p>“I could have lost them a while ago, but it seemed only fair to give them a sporting chance.”</p><p>“Don’t get generous next time.” Chan said. “Meet me at our usual stomping ground. My treat.”</p><p>“Thank god.” Jisung moaned. “I’m starving. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”</p><p>“See you then.”</p><p>There was a small, dusty hole in the wall in Gangnam where Chan had set up camp in his early years of striking out on his own. It was the type of place you had to know existed in order to find it, and the people who went there were the type that minded their own business. It wasn’t much and the food was only half-decent, but the privacy and the price had made it a worthy home base before Chan had staked his claim and made his fortune in the district with all the knowledge his father had forced on him. </p><p>He still went back, even though he had cleaner and more secure places. The owner had been kind to him, so he repaid that kindness by making a few appearances every so often to make it clear that the place was under his protection. </p><p>Parking his car on the curb and stepped out onto the sidewalk. While his siblings showed their fortune with flashier high end vehicles that paraded as modest to those who didn’t know better, he preferred his car to be functional rather than fashionable. Plus he was essentially playing soccer mom for the various young delinquents he kept on his payroll which required him to have at least that many seats for when he had to bail them out or pick up their drunk asses from wherever they had decided to pass out. Thus he drove a custom, seven seat Range Rover. Perhaps it was a little flashier than the other moms, but it offered what he needed.</p><p>Chan clicked the lock into place and headed up the block toward the restaurant, where he found one of his aforementioned delinquents leaned up against the wall in front, a lit cigarette burning between his fingers. To Chan’s knowledge, Jisung did not actually ever smoke the packs of cigarettes he bought. He wasn’t actually sure why Jisung spent so much on them, even when they were living pay check to paycheck, when he didn’t seem to smoke them. Jisung would only ever light them when he was feeling ‘shaky’, as he put it. But he didn’t question his coping mechanisms. </p><p>“Hey, problem child.” Chan said as he approached. </p><p>Jisung looked up, a fresh scrape on the side of his face and tired smile, but otherwise unharmed from the encounter Chan had overheard just a few minutes earlier. “Hey, parental figure.”</p><p>He put the cigarette out against the building before grinding it under his heel. </p><p>“Did you get that tonight?” Chan asked, stopping in front of Jisung to inspect the injury closer. </p><p>“Yeah, Serve caught up with me and I ate some pavement before I managed to slip his grip.” Jisung said with a shrug, wincing when Chan reached up to touch the scrape. </p><p>“I’m sure Taeil will let us use his first-aid kit to clean that up.” Chan murmured. </p><p>It wasn’t bad enough to warrant an excessive amount of worry, Jisung was rather durable despite his size. But he still didn’t like Jisung skirting that close to the law again. He had a way of being rather reckless with his life that took years off of Chan’s own. </p><p>They pushed inside, the door jingling brightly at their entrance. There were only two customers there, one of whom was passed out at the bar. Chan waved at the owner, Taeil, motioning to Jisung subtly before pulling him into the employee washroom. </p><p>It was regretfully routine enough in occurrence that Chan knew exactly where the first aid kit was kept. When he pulled it out from under the counter, Jisung was already perched cross-legged on the top. </p><p>“So, how was the reunion?” Jisung asked as Chan set about pouring the disinfectant on a paper towel. </p><p>“It went as expected.” </p><p>Jisung hissed when Chan pressed the disinfectant to the wound on Jisung’s cheek. </p><p>“I inherited the penthouse and a good sum, along with whatever surprises the old man left in the place.” Chan said, holding back Jisung’s overgrown bangs while he dabbed at the injury. “The others got the same.”</p><p>“Is it true that Young K once ate the heart of one of his rivals?” Jisung asked, eyes way too eager. </p><p>Chan smiled at Jisung’s childlike curiosity, pulling back to inspect his handy-work. “It wouldn’t surprise me. </p><p>“You’re all set. Get down, we have business to discuss.”</p><p>They took their spot in the corner booth that kept their backs to the wall and thus negated the possibility of someone stabbing them in it, or otherwise sneaking up behind them. Taeil brought over their usual orders, silently ushering the other two customers out, and he himself moving back toward the kitchen. </p><p>“The old man is dead, which means the others will be closing ranks and building up their forces.” Chan said, though it was hard to keep a serious conversation going with Jisung looking at him over the top of his fruity, pink drink and it’s colorful little umbrella. “Which means we have to do the same if we’re going to weather this thing.”</p><p>Despite his criminal record and his particular skill set, Jisung had an odd sort of duality, manifesting in his love of bright colors, soft things, and nature documentaries, paired with his deadly knife collection. He didn’t look or act like the devious sort to the casual observer, drowning in his oversized hoodie that came down over his fingertips as they clutched around the cup. Those things were much like that of a poisonous frog, while he might genuinely enjoy those things, the bright colors were a warning to anyone who might think to attack the seemingly small and defenseless creature.</p><p>“I thought you didn’t want to be king of the hill. Have a change of heart? Finally seen the light?” Jisung asked, taking a long sip of his drink through the aggressively yellow straw. </p><p>“They’re not going to keep me alive just because I say I don’t want to rule the world.” Chan said, pulling apart his chicken with perhaps a little bit more force than strictly necessary. “I’m a threat to their power and legitimacy, so long as I’m alive. Which means anyone close to me is a threat as well. The only way to sidestep it is to either disappear, which I doubt I could even do, or to fill the empty seat.”</p><p>“So, we’re going to war with the whole of Seoul’s underworld.” Jisung said, his tone slightly sobered by the news. “I’ll be sure to call the mortuary service and tell them about the upcoming influx of customers. I should probably add that they should probably fire up the crematorium because none of the bodies are going to look good in a casket.”</p><p>“This is serious, Sung.” </p><p>“I know.” Jisung replied, swishing his drink around his cup thoughtfully. “Or else you’d be telling me to pay for my own meal.”</p><p>“Sometimes the only choices that you get are bad ones, but you still have to choose. This is the best out of a pile of shitty options where I see a chance of us making it out alive.” Chan said. “I need to know that you’re going to be with me on this. Because if you’re not, I’d be better off taking my chances on running.”</p><p>There was a pregnant pause before Jisung responded, which was filled by him downing the rest of his drink and starting on his ramen. The only thing to do was wait because if Jisung wasn’t going to speak, he wouldn’t be prompted into doing so. Chan just sat there while Jisung ate for a good five minutes, slowly watching the ramen disappear. </p><p>Jisung wiped his mouth with his sleeve and cleared his throat. “What do you need me to do?”</p><p>Chan’s mouth quirked upward. “No other questions?”</p><p>“I have nowhere else to go. If you run, I’m as good as dead anyway, with or without a murderous family trying to torture your secrets out of me.” Jisung said with a shrug, gnawing at his bottom lip. “Not like I really have any other option.”</p><p>His voice wavered on that last statement.</p><p>Jisung was getting ‘shaky’ again, his leg was bouncing up and down rapidly and his eyes were flicking around the room as though the walls were closing in. There was a reason that Jisung went through so many packs of cigarettes in a week, and Chan didn’t even know the half of it. </p><p>“Last time I got involved with this shit…” He trailed off, but he didn’t need to say anymore. </p><p>When he’d first met Jisung five years ago, the boy was ninety pounds of traumatized child. That kind of hurt didn’t go away overnight, or ever fully. He still bore the mental and physical scars of that, much of which he wouldn’t speak about. And Chan wouldn’t force him to, though he had suggested seeing a therapist more than once, but Jisung would only do it if he did, and he didn’t want some poor therapist hunted down by his family. </p><p>There was a certain guilt he felt that was impossible to avoid when it came to Jisung. By taking this boy under his wing, he exposed him to the horrors of his own way of life, and, try as he might, there was no way he could shield him from everything. Bullets ricocheted and things happened. But taking the boy in had been the only way to save him. Now the only way to save him was to put them in even more danger, expose them to even more trauma because as horrible as it would be, it would be less so than what would happen if his siblings found them. </p><p>Chan reached over and grabbed Jisung’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promised you that when we first met, and I don’t intend on breaking that promise anytime soon. But you’re one of the smartest people I know, Sung, and I need to know that I can count on you to help me get us all out of this. Okay?”</p><p>“One of the smartest people you know?” Jisung repeated quietly. </p><p>“Perhaps not the most sensible.”</p><p>Jisung lips pulled up into a small smile. </p><p>“But, yeah, you are.” Chan said, pulling his hand back. “Let’s head over to the penthouse. We can figure shit out when we’ve had a good night of sleep, huh?”</p><p>He paid the bill and herded Jisung out to the car. </p><p>Jisung fell asleep as soon as they started driving, curled up in the passenger’s seat, tucking his knees up and hugging Chan’s bundled up coat against his chest as though it were a pillow. He looked impossibly small and innocent when he was asleep, bundled up in that hoodie.</p><p>If Chan knew Jisung, which he hoped he did after five years, the kid probably hadn’t slept the last couple nights. Looking over at him while he slept, it was clear that he was exhausted. The fact that he felt safe enough in Chan’s presence to sleep was one that was never lost on Chan. They were similar in their lack of trust in almost everyone except each other. It almost hurt to see him asleep, looking so vulnerable, especially when they both knew what was going to come their way in the coming weeks. </p><p>There was a part of him that wished he didn’t care for Jisung as much as he did. That he didn’t care for the others as much as he did. Or that he didn’t care about anyone or anything at all. That wished that he was as heartless as the person who raised him. But he was perpetually ‘soft hearted’, as his father constantly reminded him, ‘privy to attachments and thus held back from achieving his fullest potential’. And perhaps that thought came from that affirmation from his childhood, but there was a stark difference between knowing where a desire came from and banishing it completely. </p><p>A larger part knew that he couldn’t ever be what his father had sought to make him. Or even what the only world he knew how to be a part of sought to make him. </p><p>He pulled up into the parking structure adjacent to the apartment building. </p><p>“Hey, Sungie, get up, we’ve got to go.” Chan said, shaking Jisung’s shoulder as he pulled the keys out of the ignition. </p><p>Jisung whined, blinking sleepily in the florescent lights of the parking structure. </p><p>Eventually, Jisung managed to get himself loose of his seatbelt and out of the car, wrapping Chan’s coat tightly around his shoulders. </p><p>Chan smothered a smile, before tipping his head toward the stairwell, “Let’s go.”</p><p>The new residence was glitzy and expensive looking, so much so that the people working in the lobby of the building gave them a double take as they walked in. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting the place in a golden light that was fitting for a place that seemed more like a high-end hotel or a mansion than an apartment building.</p><p>“Excuse me, can I help you?” A woman who appeared to be in charge walked up to them. </p><p>Chan pulled the JYP Family charm from his back pocket, an easy smile sliding onto his lips. </p><p>“Yes, you can actually…” He glanced down at her name tag. “Choi Aeri. We’re actually the residents of Penthouse 998-42. I’m Mr. Park’s son. He left the place to me. So, I was wondering how I might get to that private elevator. Our lawyer mentioned there being one.”</p><p>He pulled the envelope from his pocket and dumped the key into his hand for her to see. </p><p>“Oh, yes, sorry, of course.” She said apologetically. “Right this way.”</p><p>She showed them the elevator and how to use it before leaving them to their night. </p><p>Jisung bounced up and down on his toes while the elevator counted up. Even when he was exhausted his body seemed to be buzzing with excess energy. </p><p>“Welcome home, Sung.” Chan said when the doors finally opened. </p><p>There were two doors in the small hallway, so Chan lead them to the one Mr. Jung had indicated. The door had a keypad, but it didn’t take much effort to figure out the code. Or it didn’t take him much effort to figure it out. His father had been a rather self-absorbed man, but a self-aware, self-absorbed man. He knew that his children knew about his vanity, which was probably why he didn’t bother telling them the keycode. To anyone else it would have been absurdly difficult, but to anyone with twenty-some years of personal insight into the idiosyncrasies of a narcissistic old man, it was child’s play. </p><p>He typed in the code and pushed inside.</p><p>The whole place was already furnished and cleaned, so they didn’t do much else that night. </p><p>Before settling in for the night, Chan just checked the security system and made sure it was fully operational, while Jisung explored the space in search of the most comfortable bed. </p><p>By the time he made it back to the room the Jisung had picked out, the aforementioned Jisung was already burrowed under the mountains of blankets on the enormous king sized bed, looking up at him expectantly through the curtain of his messy bangs. He looked ridiculously small swallowed up by the mass of mattress, blankets and pillows. Like a kid who’d crawled into their parent’s bed, waiting for a bedtime story. </p><p>“You look comfortable.” Chan chuckled as he pulled off his shirt and dress pants, folding them up and putting them on top of the dresser.</p><p>“This bed is made from clouds.” Jisung said, his voice muffled by the blankets.</p><p>Chan hit the lights before sliding in beside Jisung. Like a baby koala, Jisung immediately latched his arms around Chan, nuzzling his head in the space between Chan’s neck and shoulder. Within minutes, Jisung was fast asleep, his breath tickling Chan’s skin. </p><p>Chan looked down at Jisung pushing his hair back affectionately. </p><p>This had been their sleeping arrangement for a while, at least since Jisung had been comfortable enough for it. It would seem odd to some people, but Jisung needed to hug something to sleep, and he liked having someone there to be with him when he did, so Chan didn’t mind. And Chan would be lying if he said that he didn’t sleep better with Jisung breathing beside him.</p><p>He turned the lights off and rested his head atop Jisung’s before following him into unconsciousness.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading. Installments planned for Fridays.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sleepless Nights and Cinnamon Roll Waffles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jisung wakes up earlier than expected and meets an old friend of Chan's over waffles.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW// Descriptions of a panic attack and references to past non-specified abuse</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning started brighter and earlier than Jisung had been intending it to. But nightmares really didn’t give a flying fuck how much sleep he needed to function. Who needed to set an alarm when horrifying nightmares startled you awake so abruptly that you essentially forgot how to breathe? There was nothing quite as terrifyingly exhilarating as jolting upright and for that split second between unconscious and awareness, not knowing whether this time was real or not. Not knowing whether the rope from the bowels of his nightmare was really there, still strangling him. And he wouldn’t even trust his fingertips that flew to his neck when he woke up to tell the truth either. </p><p>But he could trust Chan. </p><p>Shaking fingers reached over to find his friend in the dark, and for a moment, grasping at nothing, Jisung was terrified that he was alone. Chan wouldn’t leave him, right? He wouldn’t abandon him. For that moment, choking alone in the dark, he felt like he might actually be dying this time. That this time it was real. Somehow, he had been taken back, or he’d never left that place, and everything since had been a fevered dream.</p><p>Then he brushed against the warm expanse of skin. </p><p>It didn’t take more than that simple touch for Chan to rouse from his sleep.</p><p>“Hey, baby.” Chan said groggily, his voice still waterlogged with sleep. </p><p>The words, the acknowledgement that, yes, Chan was still there, and that the nightmare had indeed just been that, a nightmare was enough to send the build-up of emotions tumbling over the edge. In an instant, his body was shaking from the force of his tears. </p><p>A second later, the bedside lamp flicked on, giving substance to the shadows in the room.</p><p>Chan rolled over again and looked up at Jisung, his sleep mussed hair and half-mast eyes saying that he was still clearly only half awake, but he sat up anyway and pulled Jisung toward him, holding him so tightly it almost hurt. In moments like that, it felt like Chan was the only thing keeping all the shattered bits of Jisung together, and if he let go, everything would fall apart again. And his broken pieces were sharp. If he shattered, he had the potential to hurt someone else. So he just clung to Chan, willing himself to let the pressure fuse the pieces back together.</p><p>“You’re okay.” Chan murmured, the closeness of his voice sending it rumbling through Jisung’s unsteady body. “I’ve got you.”</p><p>Jisung let his head rest on Chan’s shoulder while he rubbed slow circles against Jisung’s back </p><p>“Shh. I’ve got you.”</p><p> Jisung hiccupped. </p><p>“You want to tell me about it?’ Chan asked. </p><p>Not trusting himself to speak, Jisung shook his head.  </p><p>“Okay.” Chan said lightly. “That’s alright.”</p><p>And Jisung believed it. Something about Chan exuded an unmistakable honesty, an aura that you couldn’t help but trust. </p><p>“How about we have waffles breakfast?” He continued with the gentle circles, while his other hand massaged Jisung’s hair. “I don’t think we have much food here. We can even get the ones with the cinnamon roll topping on them. I don’t think they deliver, so we can go pick them up. If we have to go out, we can go past that pet store that you like, with all the rabbits.”</p><p>Chan just continued talking. Not about anything important or pressing, he didn’t even mention last night’s events or their tasks moving forward. He talked about how they would move around the furniture and how they could go out to buy a new wardrobe since everything in the place was sized to fit Chan’s adoptive father. </p><p>Eventually, Jisung felt secure enough to pull away. He wiped away the tear tracks from his face and took a long and shuddering deep breath. </p><p>“You mentioned waffles?” He said with a sniff.</p><p>Chan grinned, ruffling Jisung’s hair. “Yeah, get dressed and we can go.”</p><p>So, that was how they ended up at a small waffle place a couple blocks from their building, silently chewing on their plate of gourmet cinnamon roll waffles. </p><p>Jisung had thrown on the hoodie again before they left. It was dirty and smelled bad, and it desperately needed a wash, but Jisung needed it more than it needed a washing machine. There was something about drowning in an ocean of soft worn fabric that was just inherently comforting.</p><p>To distract himself, Jisung had stolen a kids menu, the kind with all the coloring and activities, and a pack of shitty crayons when they’d walked in. He then proceeded to fill it out with more intensity than he had ever given his homework during the short period he’d actually been in school. After he’d exhausted all the activities and had beaten himself at tic-tac-toe three times, he set down his crayon and looked over to Chan. </p><p>Chan had that look on his face. That serious look. The one where his brows did the thing and his jaw was all stiff. </p><p>That would just not do. </p><p>Jisung turned the kids menu over and started sketching intensely with the green crayon. </p><p>Then he held it up for Chan to see. </p><p>“Look, hyung, it’s you.” </p><p>He had drawn arrows pointing to his stick figure creation. A work which was aided in authenticity by the exaggerated six pack and biceps drawn on the stick body and the thickly applied dark circles under the eyes (in green for a lack of darker colors). All of it was tied together by the mess of yellow squiggles sticking out of the stick figure’s head. </p><p>Not his best work by far, but he had been in a hurry. </p><p>Chan startled from his stupor to look at what Jisung was showing him. The surprise turned to a look of resignment, paired with a well-executed eye roll. But it seemed that Jisung had been successful in his endeavor as Chan’s lips betrayed a smile.</p><p>“You don’t like it?” Jisung said, feigning disappointment and pouting slightly. </p><p>“I…love it.” Chan said, shaking his head and smiling as though he didn’t quite believe what he was saying. “I’m going to keep it forever.”</p><p>“I’ll even sign it for you.” Jisung said, taking his time to make it neat, even though this was just a gag to get Chan out of his head for a bit. “There.”</p><p>He slid the menu across the table. </p><p>Chan picked it up and looked at it again. Another small smile slid into place before he folded it up and stuck it in his shirt pocket. </p><p>“Right next to my heart.” He said sappily. </p><p>Jisung pretended to throw up. </p><p>“Anyways,” Chan said. “I was thinking we use today to track down some old friends for the cause.”</p><p>Those friends to the cause were ones that Jisung had not had the pleasure to meet, mostly because Chan kept everything compartmentalized, even among people that worked with and for him. The only reason Jisung knew about any of them was because he was in charge of the checkbook and payroll, something he wasn’t detail oriented or qualified enough to do, but Chan was too busy, so he’d tried his best. To him, they were just names on a screen, most of which were probably code names anyway. </p><p>“What do we need?” Jisung asked, tapping his fork mindlessly on the plate. </p><p>“We want to keep our circle small, to avoid leaks. Enough to get the job done.” Chan said. “We’ll need a tech person, a munitions expert, some muscle, a marksman, a grifter of some sort, a thief, a driver, and someone to stitch us back up.”</p><p>“So eight others?”</p><p>Jisung counted out and held up his fingers.</p><p>Chan seemed to think that was too many. “If we find a munitions expert with marksman ability and a grifter with some thieving ability, we can cut down to six.”</p><p>He gnawed at his bottom lip, his brows doing that thing again. </p><p>“That’ll have to work.”</p><p>“There’s only room in the Rover for five more people.” Jisung said. </p><p>“So we get someone with no width to them like you…” His eyes lit up before Jisung could make a retort to that particular comment. “Speaking of no width, I think I know where we can find a munitions expert/ marksman.”</p><p>“At the local Lotte Mart?” Jisung deadpanned, still a little miffed. </p><p>Chan ignored his comment, or didn’t hear it, which was also a likely scenario. He pulled a pen out of his coat pocket and stole a napkin, scribbling to check the ink before writing. There were several bullets of the small team, each with a line after for potential people to fill the positions. Besides the munitions column, he’d written a name in Romanized letters. ‘Felix?’</p><p>The name was one Jisung had seen briefly, only once on the payroll, but they’d never really needed a marksman that often for the jobs they did. </p><p>“Okay, I am currently putting Seungmin through medical school, so he owes me, plus he probably wouldn’t turn down a room in the penthouse.” Chan muttered, mostly to himself scribbling the name down on the napkin. “Any ideas?”</p><p>Another name Jisung only recognized in passing, although it was nice to know what that amount of money was going to. </p><p>“I think I might know someone, but he’s not someone you’d be familiar with.” Jisung said, his mind flipping back to the scribbled number he kept in the back of his phone case. </p><p>He’d only interacted with Lee Minho once, but he was such a character as to leave a lasting impression, even after a brief meeting. From what Jisung observed, Minho had a fighter’s instinct, but he was even more connected with his car, a flashy muscle car that tore up the road in its wake. He almost became one with the vehicle, speeding around curves and maneuvering the streets like he could picture the map in his mind. </p><p>Though he wouldn’t mention to Chan the fact that he’d gotten in a stranger’s car. Or why he needed to get in a stranger’s car.</p><p>“Name?” Chan asked, pencil poised to add to the list. “What do think he’d be good for?”</p><p>“Driver.” Jisung answered the second question first. “Lee Minho.”</p><p>Chan was silent for a moment, no doubt rolling the name through his mental database. Coming up empty, he came around to Jisung for a second round of questions. </p><p>“How is it you know him?”</p><p>Jisung almost let out a sigh of relief. </p><p>“He’s a friend of a friend. We’ve only met the once, but I have his number so he shouldn’t be too hard to get in touch with.” Jisung said, trying his hardest to downplay whatever concerns Chan might have pertaining to it.</p><p>“We still need a grifter, some muscle, and a techie.” Chan said, adding the name to the list. “I think I know a kid that could fit the bill for the techie spot. He’s a threat to national security, but if I can track him down, he’ll probably join up.”</p><p>Another name added. Jisung tried to read it upside down but gave up that attempt quickly as Chan’s hurried handwriting was less than indecipherable. </p><p>“Changbin should be good for muscle. He needs the work and the room, so he’ll take the gig.” Chan continued, tapping his pen while he puzzled through the final cast member to make the cut. </p><p>They both knew the obvious choice for the grifter position. There was no one better and no one else Chan would have trusted to be on the team. Unfortunately, that person was one that Jisung had met. Suffice to say they hadn’t gotten along. Which was probably why Chan kept his other colleagues compartmentalized the way he did. </p><p>“The Prince.” Jisung said finally, even the nickname grating at his teeth as he said it.</p><p>This was one of Chan’s one off employees that Jisung had had the misfortune to meet. That meeting was probably why Chan was so hesitant for Jisung to meet any other co-workers, now that he thought about it. To be fair, it wasn’t his fault. Pretentious assholes sometimes needed a good punch to the nose for personal growth, who was Jisung to deny someone a chance to be a better poor excuse for a human being. </p><p> “He’s the only option, we both know it. I may not like him, but he’s good at what he does. So long as I don’t have to room with him, I can tolerate his existence.”</p><p>Chan didn’t look convinced of that last part. “You sure?” </p><p>Jisung rolled his eyes. “There’s no room for my comfort here. You said yourself that we either get out of this dead or alive, or at least something to that effect.”</p><p>“Okay.” Chan said, looking down at the completed list. “That’s it then. Now comes the part where we have to track everyone down and convince them to join up.”</p><p>“Should be easy.” Jisung replied.</p><p>They spent the rest of the morning into the afternoon in the waffle restaurant. Jisung had to continually just keep buying more food so they could keep their seat and wouldn’t interrupt Chan’s train of thought. So, another plate of waffles, two muffins, and three cups of coffee later, they had a rough map of the whereabouts of their most recent hires. </p><p>Chan flubbed his lips. “Well, this is a lot of ground to cover.”</p><p>He wasn’t wrong. </p><p>They would be going from one end of the city to another, and that was even if their estimates were correct. Even if they weren’t there was no guarantee that any of them would want to get involved in this. It was a war against some of the most powerful people in the city, with a one in five chance of coming out alive. Better odds could be found in not getting into this family squabble. If Jisung wasn’t already on the ship, he wouldn’t have gotten on board.</p><p>But before either of them could come up with a solution to their current dilemma, Chan’s phone buzzed on the table. He looked down at the number and his eyes went cold. </p><p>“I need to take this.” He said lowly, answering it as he slid out of the booth. </p><p>Jisung didn’t get a chance to say a word before Chan was out the door. </p><p>There was a feeling that sat in his gut whenever Chan left him alone. He couldn’t describe it. The more logical part of him knew that Chan wasn’t really leaving him, abandoning him, but his emotional side didn’t much like that narrative. It wasn’t dramatic enough apparently. As though his life up until that point had been lacking in any of that. Still, the fifteen year old Jisung crawled up from the dark place where the present day Jisung kept him, and that version of himself whispered in his ear, telling him that every time that this was the time that Chan left for good. </p><p>This was the time that Chan left Jisung to the wolves. </p><p>His mind played worst-case scenario instead of the most rational outcome, always loving the high stakes that the game played with Jisung’s emotions. But his mind had rarely ever been his own. Most all of him had at one point or another not been his own. His mind, his emotions, his words, his brain, his body, his soul. And when he had no more to be taken, he was left out to dry. That’s how it always went. That’s how this would inevitably be. His mind just told him that it was just a matter of when Chan determined that Jisung was now more work than he was worth. And though Jisung didn’t want to believe it, experience had taught him a firm lesson, and there it was, leaving him wondering if it would hurt more or less than the last time. </p><p>Chan made him feel safe. So, inevitably, he determined, it would hurt more to be abandoned by someone who let him hug them at night, who woke up to dry his tears, and who knew his favorite places in the world. </p><p>Though he hoped for the best, he always braced himself for the worst. </p><p>He shook his head, as if that might clear the train miserable thoughts from it. </p><p>Instead of dwelling on that, or rather, distracting himself from that, he threw himself into the task that Chan had left off on. He barely noticed the time passing or the battery on his phone draining as he started the hunt for their newest recruits. If he stopped for just a second he might start thinking seriously again, and that was never a desirable thing to find himself doing. </p><p>He was in the throughs of finding information on the first person on the list when someone slid into the booth across from him. </p><p>It took a couple seconds to register, for him to startle back into reality. </p><p>When he managed to find his metaphorical footing again, he looked up to see boy- or a man- Jisung wasn’t quite sure, sitting across from him where Chan had once been. Whoever he was, he had one of the strange sort of ageless faces. Like he could be forty or fourteen and neither revelation would be a surprise to anyone who looked at him. </p><p>“I have to say, I’m surprised by how good the coffee is here.” He said. “Pleasantly surprised, I might add.”</p><p>The person’s hair was white, though clearly bleached to be that way, and he had a cocky smirk that seemed to be tattooed on his face. </p><p>“So, where was Chris off to in such a hurry?”</p><p>It took Jisung another second to realize why the words had made his heart drop, besides the clear insinuation that this person both knew Chan and had been watching. The words were in English. And unfortunately his exposure to the language and his acquisition of it had been anything but a pleasant learning experience. </p><p>“Come on, kid. I know you understand me.” The stranger said. </p><p>“What do you want?” Jisung finally responded, stubbornly still using Korean, which seemed to amuse the stranger sitting across from him. </p><p>“I’m an old friend of his.” The stranger said. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you or him.”</p><p>“Then why are you here?” </p><p>The stranger laughed as though Jisung’s question were something amusing. “I work with his brother. Strictly speaking, I’m here to gather information.”</p><p>“You’re a pretty shit spy.” Jisung muttered under his breath, but apparently not quiet enough for the stranger not to hear. </p><p>“JB would say the same thing, funnily enough.” The stranger said, now slipping back into Korean. “If I were doing my job properly, you’d be wrapped in duct tape like a present on Christmas in the trunk of my car on the way to a secondary location by now.”</p><p>“Very forward of you. At least buy me dinner.” </p><p>Whether fortunately or unfortunately, Jisung’s primary defense mechanism was sarcasm when backed into a corner. Well, first it was run as far away as fast as he could, then it was sarcasm, but this was a very small place and his risk-level assessment sincerely doubted he’d get very far. So, sarcasm it was.</p><p>The stranger quirked a brow.</p><p>“Luckily for you, I like to spite authority every now and again, and I’m a natural born agent of chaos first and foremost, so I like to do whatever makes the world burn brighter and for longer.” The stranger continued, sliding his finger through the leftover frosting on Chan’s abandoned place and tasting it. “So, instead of doing that whole tired charade, I’d figure, we’d just have a nice chat before our mutual friend decides to show up again.” </p><p>Jisung didn’t say anything but slipped his phone back into his pocket. </p><p>“There we go.” The stranger said, flashing a grin. “Jisung…isn’t it?”</p><p>“Unfortunately.”</p><p>“Good. It’d be awkward if it wasn’t.” He said. “I’ve heard from sources that Chris is fond of you. But he’s always been rather soft toward innocent creatures. He had this little dog back when we were in school together, found some other boys throwing rocks at the thing. Totally beat the shit out of them…the boys. Named the dog Berry, I think. Kept it in our dorm room.”</p><p>Jisung wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with that information. Part of him was offended at being called innocent and compared to a dog in the same breath. </p><p>“History repeats itself.” The stranger continued, obviously not caring if he was the only one speaking. “Berry to Jisung. He just can’t help himself. It’s going to be his downfall in the end.”</p><p>Those words snagged Jisung’s attention. He met the stranger’s eyes. </p><p>“I hope you understand what I’m trying to say.” The stranger said. </p><p>“Why tell me?” Jisung asked. “Chan is right outside.”</p><p>“Let’s just say, that as much as I like Chris, he wouldn’t be that pleased to see me. I chose a path contrary to the one he wanted me to take. He’s always been one to take those kinds of things personally.” The stranger said simply, almost looking sad. “I don’t know if he would listen to me, which is fair enough.”</p><p>Jisung shifted in his seat. </p><p>“Just keep my friend safe, alright?” The stranger said, his eyes falling to his lap. </p><p>He drummed the table with his hands before standing up and walking out the door. </p><p>And Jisung was left alone again to process what the fuck had just happened.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey-o, hope you are enjoying the story thus far and that you enjoyed this latest installment! See you next week! </p><p>Happy Early Halloween!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Forcibly Restraining Oneself (with Assistance) and the Introduction of Six Roommates</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which the team is assembled, and all goes well...almost.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Jisung had been nine, he’d attended his parents funeral. At that point in time, he’d thought that it was going to be the worst thing that would happen to him in his life, up until that point it had been. It wasn’t as though he were particularly grief-stricken about the passing of his parents. Objectively, he probably knew even then that they had been shit at being parents, but he knew that you were supposed to be sad about it. He’d felt guilty for not being sadder, especially when the service worker asked him why he wasn’t crying over his parents. And he was sad, but more so at the loss of such a permanent fixture in his life than anything else. Which was something he had to work through for many years after convincing himself that he was sad about losing his parents. It tuned out though, that the funeral wasn’t the worst thing that would happen to him. It was just the tipping off point for six years of absolute misery. </p><p>Which was…something. He’d had to work through his parental issues while in the dredges of misery. But, on the bright side, at least he didn’t have to work on those while dismantling six years-worth of trauma in the present. </p><p>He should probably see a therapist, but change that 'probably' to a 'definitely'. He was aware of just how fucked up he was, which was particularly irritating because his trauma happened to be of the ‘not trusting people’ variety. The problem was so obvious. The one thing he needed to solve his issue was part of the issue. Nothing like needing to trust someone with the worst parts of your life to help you trust other people with the normal stuff. </p><p>Maybe he was just overreacting, but Chan definitely needed a therapist too, so clearly he wasn’t the only one. Psychological trauma did love company. </p><p>Lots of company. </p><p>Apparently it attracted company like a fucking supersized magnet. Like everyone with trauma had radar and flocked together like a flock of emotionally unstable pigeons. </p><p>Jisung would bet the emergency money he kept hidden in his socks that every single person sat down in the penthouse living room had something going on. Probably some daddy issues all the way down to watching their loved ones parish in a horrific fire that decimated an entire town. Probably not the latter, but the spirit of that seemed to be valid. </p><p>The good news was that everyone on their list had been tracked down and everyone had agreed to join up. That had taken a good couple days and a couple hours-long negotiations that made Jisung want to pull his hair out. But they had their team.</p><p>The bad news was that they were all packed into the apartment and no one was talking. </p><p>He sat squished next to Chan, looking out over a sea of people who were barely not children and probably needed a long hug and a tub of ice cream (barring if one of them was lactose intolerant, then maybe a slushie or something). They all sat scattered across the room, with little hand written nametags that read ‘Hi…My Name Is…’ on them, Chan's idea, with varying answers.</p><p>“So…” Minho said, raising his brow as he looked at the seven other people in the room. His nametag read ‘Demon Spawn’. “Why am I here? I just heard I’d be getting to live in a penthouse rent free. I figured it was probably like a sex thing or I was going to be sacrificed to some ancient deity, or both. But I have to say, I was expecting more. Unless pretty boy over there is secretly freaky under that church-boy attire.”</p><p>Minho had said yes immediately. Even before they’d given him any monetary incentives. Apparently living in a penthouse with seven roommates was better than living alone with his cats  in a tiny, leaky, thin-walled apartment that with black mold growing on every livable surface and no window.</p><p>He flashed Hyunjin, who was sitting on the floor, an obvious wink, clearly meant to garner some kind of reaction. Jisung was pretty sure, from limited experience, that Minho didn’t really care what reaction he got, just so long as he got one.</p><p>Hyunjin, whose nametag read ‘Sam’, returned it with a middle finger. </p><p>“Let’s hope you have a confession booked for that one, alter-boy.” Minho whistled. “Can you feel the hell-fire yet?”</p><p>Hyunjin didn’t answer, but Minho seemed satisfied with the feathers he’d ruffled, and the silence meant that he’d gotten under the skin. </p><p>The pleasure of recruiting Hyunjin had been one that both Chan and Jisung agreed was better done solo by Chan, while Jisung solved a Rubik’s Cube in the car. Whatever bargain they’d struck, Jisung neither knew nor cared. </p><p>“So, why are all the rest of you here then?” Minho asked simperingly. </p><p>“I was blackmailed.” Seungmin grumbled, who actually had his full legal name on his, or at least a full legal name, but he seemed the type to be too tired to lie about something like that. “I’ve got an exam I need to be studying for and three papers to write.”</p><p>Apparently showing up with a formerly living criminal mogul’s son at someone’s dorm was enough to get Seungmin to agree, if just to get them out of his room before his roommate proposed to Chan there on the spot. The old JYP family manners were a sight to behold in action. His roommate had given Chan their number on the way out the door, which seemed to amuse Chan and irritate Seungmin. Perhaps that irritation had carried over. </p><p>Also in attendance was ‘Happiness’, a boy about Jisung’s age and size that looked like the embodiment of pure sunshine, who Jisung had also not been privy to recruiting, ‘Baby Bread’,  a kid that looked suspiciously innocent, that had been contacted via internet voodoo, and ‘Dark™’, a person who appeared to be suspiciously intimidating that they’d met in a throbbing nightclub that was so loud Jisung had heard virtually none of the conversation. None of them looked over the age of twenty-five, or like they were currently in contact with both of their parental figures. </p><p>“Would you rather go back to university housing?” Chan asked. </p><p>“If I don’t have to get involved with whatever the heck this is…maybe.” </p><p>“Wait…is he like your sugar daddy or something?” Minho asked, not even trying to hide a smirk as he looked between the two of them. </p><p>“No.” Seungmin and Chan said at the same time. </p><p>“Pass me the bleach, I need to scrub my brain of that.”</p><p>“If I never have to hear those words again, it’ll be too soon.” Chan groaned, looking at Jisung and mouthing ‘this one?’.</p><p>Jisung, unfortunately, nodded. </p><p>To be fair, when he’d met Minho the first time, and they’d both almost died,  he’d probably been more subdued. Though he had called Jisung ‘princess’ for the first ninety minutes, which probably should’ve been more of an indication of his overall personality than Jisung had taken it to be. Maybe Jisung was just fucking oblivious. </p><p>“He is paying for your schooling, and board, and probably your meal plan, plus he’s offering you a room in his multimillion dollar penthouse rent free…” Minho trailed off, his face lighting up with delight and a practically childish giggle bursting past his lips. “Are we all his sugar children? And he’s our sugar legal guardian?”</p><p>Chan looked as though he was rethinking the whole fleeing the country and getting hunted down and executed by his murderous siblings plan and throwing in the towel for this whole mess. Either that or he was just praying for a bolt from the sky to smite him then and there. Jisung couldn’t quite tell, but he presumed they had similar expressions.</p><p>“But serious question.” He said, evidently still amused by his own wit. “Can I bring my cats here? Because if I can’t…the deals off. Whatever the deal is…I know you said, but I wasn’t listening, so if you could repeat.”</p><p>“If you ever stop talking maybe.” Chan muttered.</p><p>He pried himself away from Jisung and stood up, clapping his hands together like it was a gavel bringing a court to order.</p><p>“So, as you’ve probably heard, JYP is dead.” Chan started, making a point of meeting each of their eyes. “Which left a power vacuum in the city. My siblings are all vying for that spot. Which means that they will try to take out the rest in order to legitimize their position and authority. That in turn means I have to do it first. That’s where all of you come in. I need you all to help me, with financial compensation and a place to stay in return of course. Seungmin and Jeongin, you’d be able to keep to your studies and won’t be in the field, you’d have little risk of being caught in any cross-fire. The rest of you already work that way, and I paying you more for your work, so your risk will be rewarded, I assure you.”</p><p>Chan had this aura of authority that he could summon at will. Even Minho had started fully paying attention. </p><p>“This isn’t a vacation. If you compromise this or anyone involved with this, I will put you down myself.” He said sternly, his eyes deadly enough to burn holes in each person sitting in that room. “You don’t want to test me.”</p><p>Silence sat heavy over the newly gathered group as they all took in the words Chan had just spoken. </p><p>Jisung looked up at Chan, but there were no words of comfort. </p><p>“I’ll give you the option to leave without consequence, but if I find you with the enemy, hell and it’s demons won’t be enough to stop me. Questions?”</p><p>Either there truly were no questions, or no one dared to ask. </p><p>“Alright.” Chan said. “I will respect your privacy if you respect everyone else’s. Each person’s business is their own. Now, I suppose we should do introductions…”</p><p>Unsurprisingly Minho was the first one to break the silence, standing up and walking to the  center of the living room. </p><p>Standing up, Jisung finally got a good look at him. The first time they’d met it had been dark and involved a lot of extreme peril, which never boded well for Jisung’s memory bank which tended to glitch under extreme duress, and the second time had been in a poorly lit apartment that gave a greenish cast to everything and he’d been too focused on not inhaling too much of the air in the apartment to try and get a better look. Minho was taller than Jisung had been expecting, but no one had to be that tall to be impressive to Jisung, he blamed his stunted growth on his life after the age of nine when he should’ve been eating and getting lots of sleep.</p><p>“I’m Minho, my charms and good looks are only a bonus, I’m getting paid to drive everyone around from suicide mission to suicide mission.” He said, spinning around as though he were presenting a TED talk. “My rules are no food in my car and when in my car, I choose the music.”</p><p>He pointed a finger toward Seungmin, turning from TED talk presenter to game-show host with a snap of his fingers. “Grumpy med-school kid…you’re up.”</p><p>“I’m only grumpy because I’m sleep-deprived and haven’t eaten in…three days?” Seungmin mumbled, heaving himself off the couch to give his presentation to the class. </p><p>The best way Jisung could describe Seungmin was if it had been possible to blend an old Golden Retriever with the classic boy next-door. He looked like the nice boy that the parents on dramas were always pushing their daughters to let them set them up with. The kind that brought flowers and never forgot an anniversary, and probably was the captain of some sports team. That was, if said person was also a med-student with negative hours of sleep and an ever plummeting blood-sugar level who should by all intents and purposes be keeled over.</p><p>“I’m Seungmin. I’m a med student.” He paused to yawn. “Um…so, don’t get too complex of injuries because I’m probably not there yet. And don’t tell me about any injuries and/or deaths you’ve caused because I don’t want to break the code of ethics before I even become a doctor.”</p><p>He gestured vaguely in Baby Bread’s direction before collapsing on the couch again. </p><p>Baby Bread took his turn, waving awkwardly as he stood up. </p><p>“Hi, I’m Jeongin. I’m in charge of the tech stuff, I guess. That’s what Channie-hyung said anyway.” He said stutteringly, offering up a nervous smile. </p><p>Jeongin looked as though he’d escaped a preschool and took a growth serum and was now masquerading as a full-grown human. With blue hair. The blue hair did look good on him, but he still looked like he was a literal child. If he was an adult, it was just barely. </p><p>“So, um, yeah. I don’t really know what else to say. So, um…”</p><p>He spun around slowly and pointed to ‘Happiness’. </p><p>‘Happiness’ turned out to match the sticker placed on his chest. Either he was the fucking sun incarnate, or else he was about the warmest human being ever created. He had bleached blond hair that matched his thousand watt smile, and his face was dotted with sun-kissed freckles. </p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>Everyone froze. </p><p>Well, that voice was deeper than he’d expected. He wasn’t expecting Pikachu or anything, but that was something found in the deepest trenches of the ocean.</p><p>“Um…I’m Felix. Or Yongbok, is my Korean name, I guess.” He said in stuttering, heavily accented Korean. “I’m here to take care of the weapons and…um…shooting people before they shoot you?”</p><p>“Sounds good to me.” Minho said. “I very much enjoy not getting shot, and I’m sure Minnie appreciates your service as well.”</p><p>Seungmin, without opening his eyes, gave Minho the second middle finger of the night. A promising start to their relationship for the foreseeable future. </p><p>“You can come sit with me, Lixie.”</p><p>Minho patted the space beside him.</p><p>“How about you, alter-boy?” Minho asked as Felix hesitantly sat down beside him. “Care to introduce yourself?”</p><p>With a huff, Hyunjin pushed himself to his feet and his hair back from his face. </p><p>It was possible that he’d gotten taller since Jisung had last seen him, or maybe the irritation Jisung held inside was causing so much pressure that it was actually compressing his own spine and he was the one getting shorter due to it. That would be something that would happen to him. Hyunjin had also grown his hair out. He’d probably done it just to spite Jisung because he knew that it looked good and that even Jisung would have to admit it. </p><p>Perhaps that was petty to think, that the world revolved around his distaste for certain people, but Jisung didn’t have the desire to do any self-reflection. </p><p>“I’m Hyunjin.” He said. “I’m here to pretend like I like people in order to steal their stuff, I guess. Next…”</p><p>He slumped back to the ground. </p><p>Dark™ lifted his hand. </p><p>“I’m Changbin. I’m in charge of knocking people out. You can ensure it’s not you by not touching my stuff and not using up all the hot water.” He said succinctly without standing up. “Would your…roommate?...boyfriend?...like to introduce themselves?”</p><p>“Roommate works.” Chan said looking over at Jisung. “You want to introduce yourself?”</p><p>Everyone was staring at him now, so it appeared as though he didn’t have a say in the matter.</p><p>He stood up, smoothing the wrinkles out of his sweatpants to give his hands something to do.</p><p>“Should a roommate be listening to this?” Hyunjin asked coolly from his spot, his eyes burning holes in Jisung’s chest. </p><p>Jisung gritted his teeth. “Six people moved into my space, I’d figure it out eventually, even if I wasn’t told or involved, which I have been since before you got here.”</p><p>“At least I have a purpose. You’re less of a roommate and more of a lapdog, mooching off of him and having no real use except to take up space.” Hyunjin scoffed. “I’m surprised you don’t have a rhinestone collar yet.”</p><p>That last comment landed, and it landed hard, sending a shockwave through Jisung’s body that made his stomach churn and his hands start to tremble. He could feel everyone’s silence. Chan’s eyes clearly were telling him to let it go, that he would handle it. And Hyunjin’s eyes dared him to respond. Who was he to turn down a challenge?</p><p>“At least I don’t whore myself out to billionaires’ wives for a couple bucks and a diamond necklace.” Jisung snarled back. “I’d look in the mirror before you start talking about who should be wearing a collar.”</p><p>Hyunjin was on his feet in an instant, but Chan was faster, moving between the two of them, his hand planted firmly on Jisung’s shoulder. </p><p>“That’s enough for tonight. Names are posted on the doors, figure it out amongst yourselves if you want to trade.” Chan said, his eyes moving between Hyunjin and Jisung. “We start early tomorrow with a bit of training. Go. Unpack. Sleep. There’s locks on every door. Goodnight.”</p><p>That was the end of it. The final word. </p><p>Jisung shrugged Chan’s hand away and stormed off toward their room. </p><p>He knew that he shouldn’t be mad at Chan for not picking a side, he needed this team, and finding someone else as good as Hyunjin would be almost impossible, but that didn’t stop him from feeling betrayed anyway. Of all people, Chan knew what that comment would do to Jisung. How deeply it would pierce. But he still didn’t say anything. </p><p>By the time he shut the door of their room, Jisung was gasping for air. He scrabbled at the side table for his box of cigarettes and lighter, stumbling over and throwing open the window. It took a couple tries to light it, but when he did, and he finally smelled the smoke, the unsteadiness began to subside. </p><p>He leaned out the window, letting the toxins join with the rest of the city’s pollution and drift up toward the sky. The smell was horrible, he hated it. But it was the only thing that could keep him from boiling over. His mother used to smoke. It was what he remembered most about her. That picnic to the beach, where they were a real family for a couple hours, playing in the water and building sand castles. Having a picnic, his mom taking a drag while passing out the sandwiches. She hadn’t been good a being a mother, but Jisung liked that memory. </p><p>This wasn’t a healthy way to cope, but it was all he knew how to do. Put a memory up on a pedestal and burn a chemical offering, hoping it would bring him peace.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! My computer froze and I lost a lot of unsaved editing I did, so if there are any mistakes, my apologies. It was probably at one point fixed.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Healthy Disrespect for Law Enforcement and Grocery Shopping for a Family of Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Felix and Chan go shopping and Chan gets another phone call</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So far it looked as though Chan was going to go down, and he was going to go down in flames with his siblings smiling smugly at his funeral pyre while he burned alive. The police were sniffing around about the disappearance of Mr. Jung, not that it was unexpected, but it was unusually competent for the Seoul Police Department. </p><p>Detective Oh had called him during his breakfast with Jisung. While not unexpected or unplanned for, it was still irritating. The detective had been a pain in his ass for a while, always sifting through the ashes that Chan’s family tended to leave in their wake for a trinket that would bring them down. He was one of those hero types that got involved in things bigger than them and fixed themselves as being the protagonists. </p><p>While he doubted that the department would take Oh’s investigation seriously, if they did they would find with a little digging that his six of his roommates were less than law-abiding citizens. He didn’t even know how he would explain that away, except maybe saying he was opening up a halfway house to rehabilitate the most criminally competent youths. </p><p>Said youths were also stoking the flames of his probably downfall. </p><p>He had known going in that Hyunjin and Jisung wouldn’t get along, but he’d risked it because he needed both of them. What he hadn’t thought about was how six loners would react to having an assigned roommate. But he’d been too busy figuring out his snooping detective problem to thoroughly give thought to that potential snag. </p><p>It was a miracle that they didn’t have a dead body by the end of week one. But there were many, many close calls. </p><p>After the first night, it was clear that Minho and Seungmin couldn’t share a room, Changbin and Hyunjin were butting heads. The only pairing that seemed to have worked was Felix and Jeongin, but that was only because they were actually semi-decent people. Eventually, after several sleepless nights, Chan found groupings that worked. Seungmin and Hyunjin could tolerate each other, and Felix could room with anyone, so he moved in with Minho, and Jeongin and Changbin had similar sleeping patterns and opposite shower times, so they were paired up. </p><p>Those nights and days working without sleep had put them about a full business week behind the schedule he’d planned out. And no sleep also meant that he couldn’t figure out how to put them back on schedule. </p><p>Thankfully, Jisung could sleep through anything. He would hand Chan caffeinated tea and take his laptop to look over the plans, often going through and silently correcting spelling and adding a few comments. Even if Jisung still wasn’t talking to him, it was more than Chan had hoped for in that time. He’d avoid Chan’s attempts to corner him and talk about it. Chan couldn’t really talk, if there was something they had in common, it was avoiding awkward conversations.</p><p>He’d probably order from Jisung’s favorite delivery place and hope that the gesture was understood, and they could get back to talking again.</p><p>Another thing he’d failed to realize in his frazzled state was the fact that there were now eight people in a penthouse with one bathroom (not counting the half-bath attached to the room Jisung and himself shared) and not enough food. Before he could even think about a plan, he’d had to draft up a shower and bathroom time sign-up sheet. That was only effective after promising that if someone went over the allotted time, barging in would be allowed by the person that followed. There was never any food, everything was empty and pushed back into the cupboards. He estimated half of his inheritance had been spent already on groceries. Not to mention Hyunjin had the annoying habit of pushing everything on the top shelf to the back, so that no one except him could reach it, which required the undignified task of crawling on top of counters to rectify it. </p><p>The only saving graces were that Seungmin couldn’t stand a messy bathroom and cleaned it up before he would use it, which kept it from turning into a toxic dump, that Felix was a semi-decent cook, and Minho took care of his cats’ to an obsessive degree. </p><p>That afternoon had been spent drafting up a chore chart and a shopping list. </p><p>Most of the new roommates had day jobs, or in Seungmin’s case, classes, so the house was blessedly mostly empty. After watching for a while, Chan had gotten a quick understanding of their schedules. </p><p>Changbin worked nights and weekends at certain clubs as body guard for some of the shady behind the scenes shit that went on in back rooms, so he slept most of the day. </p><p>Jeongin did remote tech support stuff during the week, so he was holed up in a walk-in closet that he’d soundproofed the second he’d found it. </p><p>Hyunjin did his own thing during the day, Chan didn’t ask. </p><p>Seungmin had classes from dawn until dusk, and if he didn’t he was always cramming for something. </p><p>Minho worked in a garage, fixing up and restoring luxury or vintage cars. </p><p>Felix only worked for hire, so he was crashed on the couch puzzling over a Korean language-learning textbook. </p><p>And Jisung was out of the way in some corner of the apartment, likely watching some nature channel or a documentary about dinosaurs. He tended to close up when confronted with people he didn’t know, so he would likely keep to himself for a while.</p><p>“Oi, Felix!” He called into the living room. </p><p>Felix looked up from his book, pulling out his tangled earbuds.</p><p>“I’ve got some shopping to do, and I’ll need some help carrying.” Chan said, standing up and shutting his laptop. “You can finish what you’re working on and come along with me.”</p><p>Felix had been an interesting find. Another confused Korean-Australian kid with culture shock and nowhere to go. But he had a good aim and an impressive work ethic, so he’d made himself useful to some lower level street gangs early on. Being in a gang meant continually being useful or die, so to survive he’d made himself indispensable. When the gang started causing some waves in territories that were under JYP, Chan was sent in to fix it. </p><p>Long story short, Felix was useful, the rest of the goons he’d been working for weren’t, and Felix had been freelancing from the comfort of JYP’s payroll ever since. </p><p>A couple minutes later, Felix closed his book and slid across the floor to where Chan was, dodging around one of the cats that shot out from its hiding place under the table to attack Felix’s feet. </p><p>“Let’s go.” Chan said, snatching his keys off of the kitchen counter and heading for the door. </p><p>The people in the front lobby had been confused and suspicious of the amount of people coming to and from the penthouse apartment as of late. Chan wasn’t sure what they thought was going on, but they never said anything, so it was just as well. They did however give him odd looks when he came through the lobby area. </p><p>That was probably why his father had taken to this place. He paid well for discretion, and these people were more than accommodating in that department.</p><p>The two of them headed to the parking garage, Chan waving to the security guard with a kind smile as they walked in. One of the first things his father had enforced was building respect and positive association with everyone that wasn’t your enemy. That meant being schooled in manners and always being ridiculously patient and kind toward everyone. He stressed that one person, no matter how insignificant they seemed, could bring about downfall if questioned by the police or an enemy. It didn’t matter if they were a store clerk or the president of the country. Politeness was a shield, and people were more likely to protect someone that was kind to them, no matter if they were a stranger, than someone who was either horrible or just average. A wall of positive regard, his father called it. </p><p>Eventually, it became a habit and then a personality trait and then an ingrained part of him. It was one of the only things Chan could think of to thank his father for. The practice had come in clutch, stonewalling the police who couldn’t find anyone who would speak ill of him, many times before, too many to disregard it out of spite for the man who’d pretty much ruined his life. </p><p>“Right here,” Chan said, tipping his head toward the Rover and pushing a button to unlock it. “Hop in.”</p><p>It was strange to have someone other than Jisung in the passenger’s seat. Even if he’d driven some of his other strays or friends, they always sat in the back. Maybe that was because they tended to be bleeding out, passed out, or otherwise on death’s doors. Really said something about the company he kept. He’d had to have his car detailed so many times. </p><p>The first stop was groceries. </p><p>He air-dropped the shopping list to Felix’s phone. </p><p>“Alright, you take the first half and I’ll take the second half. If they’re out of something, don’t worry about it. Meet me at the register when you’re done, okay”</p><p>They went their separate ways, taking a cart and heading off toward their respective aisles. </p><p>Chan had formulated the list based off of how the store was formatted, or how he remembered it in his head. All the items whose aisles were in the north side of the store were in the top half and all those in the northern aisles were on the bottom half. </p><p>Efficient. </p><p>That had always been a favored trait of his father. Efficiency without cutting corners. Perhaps that was why he was put at the right hand of the father so quickly, even above those older than him. </p><p>Somehow it always came back to him. Chan wondered if there was any part of himself that hadn’t been invented in order to please his father. Any part that was authentically himself. A part of him that maybe resembled his parents. </p><p>He hadn’t really known his parents. All talk of their former life was strictly prohibited, under threat of punishment. Most of what he remembered had probably been suppressed, pushed down so far that he could no longer access it except when he was asleep. There were foggy memories, not really memories, more like shards of a shattered picture. He could see bits and pieces, but he couldn’t grasp them. Maybe that would be the only way he would remember his parents. In dreams and half-gone memories. </p><p>A part of him wanted to find them, and another part, the part of a scared abandoned child, didn’t want to know who they were. That part said not to risk the shattered pieces getting even more broken, even if there was a chance he might be able to put them back together and heal. He didn’t know if he could face them, whether alive or dead, as they might well be. Whether accidentally or purposefully, by leaving him they’d delivered him into this life, and into the pain and scars he bore now because of it. </p><p>There was no point thinking about it. Frowning at produce wouldn’t magically heal all the shit in his head, it would just get him weird looks from the lady across the display who was picking out oranges. </p><p>Smiling politely, he grabbed up some grapefruits and added them to his cart, moving on quickly. </p><p>As he found himself in the frozen food section, puzzling over frozen meals that would be simple enough for the wayfaring residents of his house to figure out how to make, least they find themselves starving, his phone buzzed in his pocket. </p><p>Cutting his train of thought short, and hoping that the call was damn well worth it, he pulled it out to check the number. </p><p>Unfortunately he did know the number.</p><p>The same one that had pulled him away from breakfast with Jisung a week or so prior. </p><p>The itch that refused to be satiated. </p><p>The detective on the case for the disappearance of the lawyer. </p><p>“Detective Oh?” He said politely, adding a smile to his voice that wasn’t matched by his face. “How can I help you?”</p><p>“Cut the crap.” The detective snarled. “I know you and your fucked up family are responsible for Mr. Jung’s disappearance.”</p><p>“I’m sorry to waste your time, but you’re clearly mistaken.” Chan said. “I’ve told you everything I can, if you want me to come down to the station for a little chat to clear up this little  misunderstanding.”</p><p>He could hear the detective seething on the other end of the phone. </p><p>“I know this was you, or any one of those freaks that you call siblings.”</p><p>“Wrong on both counts I’m afraid, detective.” Chan tutted, trying not to enjoy himself too much as this was pretty much the only fun he could have at the moment. “And other people call them siblings, I prefer unfortunate childhood acquaintances. But if you would be so kind as to disclose why you believe it is any of us?”</p><p>“You know that if I had anything you’d be in a holding cell already.” Detective Oh said heavily. “But you’ll have to slip up sometime. If not you, one of your ‘unfortunate acquaintances’. And I’ll be there for your head when that day comes, make no mistake.”</p><p>“This all seems very rushed, detective,” Chan said lazily, if it were the seventies he’d be twirling the phone cord around his finger. “I enjoy more foreplay in my romantic dalliances. But I’m flattered by your…enthusiasm. Unfortunately, I’m otherwise occupied at the moment.”</p><p>“With the seven urchins.” Detective Oh said. </p><p>Though caught off guard, Chan tried to play it cool. He needed to keep his higher ground in this conversation. The news was…well, news, but he should have expected surveillance to be put on him at some point. It was nothing he couldn’t deal with. </p><p>On top of everything else. </p><p>“Yes. I enjoy the company. A big house is only so much fun by yourself.” Chan replied. </p><p>“The company you keep is very telling, Mr. Bang.”</p><p>“How do you mean?” </p><p>The detective chuckled. </p><p>“Sex workers, drug runners, runaways, illegals and scammers, all under one roof. And none of them are nearly as careful as you. A difference in upbringing, I’ll assume.” Detective Oh said, sounding almost smug. “I could book almost every one of them with something. Care to place wagers on how long they’d last in prison?”</p><p>He didn’t really know who he was toying with. That smugness wouldn’t last very long if Chan had anything to say about it. And he did.</p><p>“Why haven’t you?” Chan asked, his voice edging out of the realm of politeness at the veiled threat. “It’s obvious you’re desperate to regain your reputation. Especially after that little mix-up last year. What will your superiors think when they find out you’re chasing a case they told you to drop?”</p><p>“How did you-“</p><p>Chan didn’t let the man finish. “It doesn’t matter. This isn’t your big win, detective. I can promise you that. There is nothing to find, and nothing to win. Call off your dogs, or I call the one holding your leash. Are we clear?”</p><p>There was a pause. </p><p>“Perfectly.”</p><p>“Wonderful.”</p><p>“Tell Doe-Eyes that his parents miss him.”</p><p>The line went dead.</p><p>Chan drag his hand back through his hair. </p><p>That would only hold him off for so long. Likely it would just intensify his suspicion, but he could deal with that problem later. </p><p>In his mind he knew that he could lose control of this very quickly. He was juggling too much, barely tossing up one thing before he had to catch another. The dead lawyer, the homicidal siblings, seven dependents, and his own fraying grip on reality. One day he might just drop them all if he wasn’t more careful. </p><p>He took a deep breath. </p><p>It was time to get moving. </p><p>By the time he made it up to the register, Felix was already waiting, looking around anxiously as the line started to dwindle. He met eyes with Chan and his face lit up with obvious relief. </p><p>“I was almost starting to think you’d abandoned me to face the checker on my own.” Felix said as soon as Chan joined him in line. </p><p>“It would be good practice.” Chan said, nudging his shoulder lightly. “But the produce was not nearly interesting enough to keep me there for much longer.”</p><p>He looked over at Felix’s cart, checking off items in his head as he saw them. It looked as though he’d gotten most of it. Though they’d have to find some odds and ends elsewhere, most of the important stuff had been found. </p><p>They checked out quickly and headed back to the Rover to load it up. </p><p>Felix texted ahead for anyone in the penthouse to help bring stuff up. Hopefully the group chat would be of some use. Likely only one would answer the call, that was at best, but it was worth a shot. </p><p>“So,” Felix said as they piled the newly purchased items into the trunk. “Can I ask you a question?”</p><p>“I won’t promise an answer but ask away.” Chan said, mentally going through his list again as he loaded up the items.</p><p>“Is there a way out?”</p><p>The question was not one that he’d been expecting. </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“I mean…can we ever stop?” Felix tried again. “This. Fighting and killing and everything. After you win, is there a way to make it stop? To get out and…be normal?”</p><p>The truth was that Chan didn’t know. He’d asked himself the question enough times that he probably should have been able to come up with an answer if there was one to find. </p><p>He’d pulled these kids into it. Could he get them out? Was there a chance for them to live after the dust settled in whatever way it settled?</p><p>“After this is done, I can help you try.” Chan said because that was the only truth he could offer.</p><p>That didn’t seem to be what Felix wanted to hear. His face fell slightly. He had the distinct ability to make the world seem darker every time his expression saddened. It was rather unfair to everyone else. </p><p>“And what about you?” Felix prompted. “Do you get to stop?”</p><p>The short answer was no. Chan didn’t get to stop. This ended one of two ways. Either he died brutally at the hands of his siblings, or he was the last one standing and took over his father’s place. Pending he survived, he would have to continue his father’s work. And if he lived a long life, it would be one marked with bloodshed and paranoia until he was finally too tired to keep fighting and went down painfully and violently. </p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“Could you try?” Felix asked softly, looking up at him. “We need you. You keep us together. And this is as close to a family as I’ve ever had in the short time we’ve been here. I can’t lose it. And the others might not being willing to say so, but I don’t think they can afford to lose this either.”</p><p>The words triggered a gut-wrenching pang in his chest.</p><p>“I’ll try.” </p><p>Without a second passing, Felix surged forward and latched his arms around Chan’s middle, squeezing tightly and pressing his head again Chan’s chest. It took Chan a couple seconds to recover from the shock and return the gesture. </p><p>In that moment he promised himself that he would honor those words. If it meant that he had to go without sleep or peace for the rest of his life, he would still try to get out. </p><p>Those kids had been broken down by the world and let down enough without him adding to the list. He couldn’t let these kids down. Not again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed!</p><p>My computer really hates me and decided to crash again. I lost quite a bit, so next week's chapter might be delayed a day or two as I try to rewrite the sections I lost.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Family Meetings and a Plateful of Peace-Keeping Brownies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Chan gives the kids a job and Jeongin plays Santa</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next week began their trial run. A test to see whether or not everyone would crash and burn the second they had to work together and Chan would be better off running or faking his death, instead of moving forward with the rest of the plan. This would be dipping the toe in to a small puddle instead of jumping into a shark infested ocean. Executing the murder of one person and getting away with it, versus executing the murder of four people and getting away with it. He was taking baby steps, and he didn’t want to find out that he was doomed in the middle of the bigger picture. </p><p>If all went to plan it would be a team bonding experience and would rid the nation of a sleazebag that was the top choice for the vacant seat on the supreme court. And as anyone on the street would say, the country needed less sleazebags on the highest court in the nation, not more. He didn’t normally care, but he had a vested interest in getting rid of the guy even before he became a front-runner choice for the empty position. Nobody would mourn the loss of Choi Ilsung. </p><p>Maybe his kids. But even that was a stretch. </p><p>According to Jeongin’s research, Choi would be attending an auction at an art museum in the city at the end of the week. Beforehand there would be a gala with food and drinks for the upper-class elite to enjoy mingling with their fellows. That would be where they hit. </p><p>Among Choi’s track-list of being a shit human were allegations of predatory behavior and sexual assault, but all cases were dropped or settled. Logically, that would be the in, a way to lure him away from the guests to the second level bathroom where Felix would be waiting with a sharp knife and a body bag. Chan wanted to find another in. He’d stuck his hands in many dirty things over the years, but this felt like sending people to stick their hands into irradiated sewage. Even if they were all legally of age, it felt disgusting to play into this man’s sick perversion, even if it was just an act. </p><p>But Hyunjin was the grifter, he’d leave the how up to him. </p><p>Jeongin had familiarized himself with the security system and layout of the building, even customizing earpieces that could be used to track the movements of the team in the building. The trackers even showed up on the screen as a cute little animated icon of each of them, with their vitals on a little box beside them as though it were a video game. The vitals were reported through a bracelet on their arms that used excess body heat to essentially make it a portable/emergency charger for the earpieces. The kid was brilliant, if slightly terrifying. Chan was just grateful he’d gotten the kid on his side before someone else. He wouldn’t want Jeongin on the opposing team. </p><p>The rough plan was to forge invitations and hack the guest list before the party to get Hyunjin in, with Jisung as his plus one. Hyunjin was there to lure the target, Jisung was there as a gopher on site that could quickly aid or take over a position if something went wrong. Felix, Changbin, and Jeongin would come in with the waitstaff, who had to be there early to set up tables and such, so they would blend in until they found an opening to quietly slip away. Felix would head to the bathroom to set up what he needed and wait, while Changbin and Jeongin headed down the security room. There were two people in the security room, Changbin would take them down and secure them before he and Jeongin went in. Jeongin would then provide look-out through the live-feed. Changbin would then secure the second floor and keep it clear. Once Hyunjin located the target, he’d lure him up to the second floor bathroom to Felix, by then Changbin would have gotten security guards out of the way. Jisung would wait until the delivery was made and the job was finished before leaving out the front and heading down the street a couple blocks to where Minho and Seungmin would be waiting in a car in a parking structure. Hyunjin would do the same after the delivery. Felix next, after doing the deed, out the employee entrance in the kitchens. Changbin would wait until Jeongin wiped everything and triggered a fire alarm and the sprinkler system before joining the crowd leaving out the front, meeting everyone back at the café. </p><p>There was a million things that would go wrong or have to be changed up, that’s why Chan never committed fully to a plan, leaving some details moldable for on the spot changes. </p><p>Meanwhile, Chan would be leading the ever-persistent Detective Oh on a wild goose-chase around the city, hopefully distracting him from his team’s less-than-legal activities for the evening. He’d be mic’d into it for updates and changing plans. Normally he’d want to be on the ground with everyone. He liked being involved so that he could be the one to monitor everything and make sure everything got done properly, but for that night he’d have to trust Jisung to be his eyes and ears and make sure everyone stayed relatively on course. </p><p>He trusted Jisung. He did. And this was what was best for the plan. The detective was still up his ass about the lawyer and other suspicions, and Chan needed him far away from his team in order to pull this off. </p><p>Getting Jisung and Hyunjin to not kill each other before then would be more of an issue. To their credit, they were pretty much avoiding each other, and thus avoiding the death glares and bickering, as it was, but when they did eventually collide it was explosive. Chan knew that the both of them could do their jobs, but he wasn’t so sure if their animosity wouldn’t derail the entire thing. Unfortunately, that would be the best way to get them both in the building. He just hoped they were both good enough actors to convince a crowd of nosy gossips that they actually didn’t want to strangle one another. </p><p>He doubted either of them would be pleased once they heard the news. </p><p>That’s why he had Felix make brownies as a peace offering in order to break the news and hopefully avoid bloodshed. Unfortunately the request to ‘amplify’ the brownies’ effectiveness was denied by Felix. </p><p>So, he hoped the dessert was as good as Felix promised. </p><p>“Alright, now that all of you are here, we need to go over what’s going to happen this week.” Chan started, sitting down at the table with the others.</p><p>“I’ve got to catch a bus to get to class in…” Seungmin looked down at his watch. “Like twenty minutes, so if we can make this quick.”</p><p>“Noted. I’ll try my best.” Chan said. “First order of business, Felix made brownies, so dig in.”</p><p>He shoved the plate into the center of the table. Jisung gave him a weird look but partook in one like the rest of the group. </p><p>“Enjoy while I start off with the plan. As I’ve said before, the gala and silent auction at the end of the week…”</p><p>Rip off the bandage. </p><p>“Hyunjin will be put on the guest list,” Chan said, trying not to look at either of them for the next part. “And he’ll bring Jisung along as his plus one.”</p><p>As if on cue, Hyunjin shot up to his feet.</p><p>At least it was over. </p><p>“No,” Hyunjin said sharply. “It’s going to be a disaster. He’s a disaster.”</p><p>For his part, Jisung didn’t look that phased by the news, just thoughtfully chewing his brownie and looking only mildly interested in Hyunjin’s outburst. Or maybe his collection was strategic in order to irritate Hyunjin, which wouldn’t be unlike him to do. </p><p>“Oh, a blow. Someone put pressure on this grievous wound.” Jisung said with Shakespearean dedication to his sarcastic line. </p><p>“Listen to me,” Chan said. “All you have to do is get in the door. Then you won’t have to interact with each other for the rest of the night. Now, if I can go over the rest quickly so that Seungmin can leave?”</p><p>Hyunjin sat down heavily, fixing Jisung’s head a murderous glare. But Chan knew that the glare would only give Jisung more power.</p><p>“I should have known something was up,” Jisung said with a heavy sigh, reaching for another brownie. “You only give me sugar when you’re buttering me up for something I won’t like.”</p><p>“I do not.” </p><p>“My favorite cheesecake place when you made me go to the doctor to be violently stabbed several times.” Jisung said through his food, clearly relishing the look of disgust on Hyunjin’s face. “A milkshake, when I became a ward of the state…again. Or when you gave me your Skittles when we about to get off the plan and be mobbed by a legion of cameras.”</p><p>Chan inhaled deeply, rubbing his brows to ward off an oncoming migraine.</p><p>“I mean, I did immediately throw it up afterwards, but it still counts.” Jisung added, even though no one else was speaking or asking. </p><p>“That was uncomfortable, but the brownies were good, so overall not the worst family meeting I’ve ever attended.” Minho said finally, snatching another brownie off of the plate. “Though mine usually end up with a lot more emotional manipulation, gas-lighting, and at least one trip to the emergency room.”</p><p>He hadn’t been expecting for this meeting to go well, and yet it was almost on par in terms of derailment for their first already and it hadn’t even been five minutes. This seemed to be becoming a recurring theme of sorts, not staying on track.</p><p>Chan cleared his throat.</p><p>“Moving on. Minho, you and Seungmin wait in a parking structure five blocks from the event.” Chan started. “Jeongin, Felix, and Changbin, I called in a favor with a friend who got you in with the catering company for the event. It’s a large company, so they won’t worry about new faces. Changbin breaks off and clears the security room, once it’s secure, Jeongin go there and stand watch. Changbin and Felix, take a badge from security and a walkie, and head up to the second floor via the stairwell down the hall from the security room. Clear the second floor. They’re hiring an outside security team, so Changbin make sure you are able to keep it clear. Felix go to the bathroom on that floor and wait.</p><p>“You five good with that?”</p><p>There was muttering and sarcasm to the affirmative, so Chan took that as a yes and moved on. </p><p>“Alright, Seungmin, go get to your class.” Chan said. “If we say anything else of note I’ll tell you when you get back.”</p><p>Seungmin stood up quickly, slinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing an apple from the fruit basket on his way out the door.</p><p>“Have fun cutting open cadavers!” Minho called to Seungmin’s back as the door closed behind him.</p><p>It was just wishful thinking at this point to have a normal meeting.</p><p>“Hyunjin, your job is to locate the target, and lure him up to the second floor bathroom before the auction.” Chan said, sliding a folder over to him. “Jeongin compiled a profile for you to look at beforehand. I’ll leave it up to you how you go about it, but I need you to get him there.”</p><p>Hyunjin immediately opened the folder and started pouring over the information, gnawing at his bottom lip while he read. </p><p>“Jisung, you’ll be a gopher.” Chan said. “If anyone is compromised or needs help, you’re back-up. You’ll also be monitoring everything in my stead.”</p><p>“And you’ll be where?” Jisung asked, quirking his brow upwards. </p><p>So, confession time. Chan hadn’t told any of them about the detective issue, not even Jisung. To him, it was his issue to deal with, unrelated to what they were doing here. It was in a different compartment so to speak. However, the increasing overlap was making it harder and harder to avoid speaking on. Logically he knew that saying something sooner rather than later would be better, as the detective was now inching closer to the other inhabitants of the penthouse, but he also didn’t want to combine those two compartments. There was a lot of shit in each, and if he said something, he would dump the shit into one and it might overflow and get out of control. And if his world was chaotic, he liked his brain to be organized. </p><p>He also didn’t want to dump his problems onto to people that were not involved in the creation of them. </p><p>But Jisung had unknowingly created an ultimatum. Tell the truth about it and risk the emotional blowback. Or lie and have them figure out he was lying and figure out the truth for themselves. </p><p>Chan couldn’t risk the potential for distrust. But he needed everyone focused on this mission at hand. </p><p>“It won’t affect any of your tasks, and I’ll be on comms.” Chan said to Jisung, adding in a quieter tone. “We’ll talk later.”</p><p>Jisung had the irritating ability that had come from five years of interactions where he knew Chan too well. It was almost unnerving. He had that look in his eyes in that moment, but he didn’t say anything else. </p><p>“Jisung will leave out the front after the hand-off is confirmed. Hyunjin you’ll do the same after your delivery. Changbin, you wait for Felix, make sure he gets out the employee entrance, then go meet up with Jeongin in security. Jeongin, once everyone else is out, you wipe everything, trigger the fire alarms and sprinklers, and the two of you go out with the crowd.” Chan said. “Plan your routes to the parking structure ahead of time, and make sure none of you take the exact same one. Jeongin’s marked out cameras on the different routes, so memorize them and make sure your face isn’t seen. Also, have a back-up route, just in case. Meet back at the structure, then get the hell out of dodge.”</p><p>He looked to Minho. </p><p>“Make sure you drive around for a bit before going back to the penthouse.”</p><p>“I have two cars ready at the mechanics. I have keys to the shop and the cameras are for show, so nothing will pick us up except maybe the convenience store on the corner.” Minho said, sounding serious for once in his life. “I’ll change the plates on the van, and we can split up from there. I know Minnie’s got a license, so he can take the other car.”</p><p>Chan nodded, surprised, but grateful that Minho was taking his job seriously.</p><p>“Any other questions?” </p><p>Jeongin’s hand went up slowly. </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“I have personalized comms for everyone, if I could go get them…”</p><p>Chan gesture broadly for Jeongin to go retrieve the items. </p><p>He scurried off toward his room and came back seconds later with small boxes that looked as though they were holding jewelry. Peeking inside each one quickly, he passed them out to everyone sitting around the table. Chan took his from Jeongin setting it carefully on the table.</p><p>Taking an anxious breath as though showing his parents his school project and waiting for judgment, he sat down in his own chair with his box. </p><p>“Merry Christmas.” Minho said jovially as he popped the lid off of his box. </p><p>Everyone watched as Minho extracted a comm set and bracelet, accented in mint green. </p><p>“The wrist band uses excess heat from the body to function as a portable charger for the comm.” Jeongin explained. “It also tracks your position and your vitals to my computer, so I can check your status if you can’t speak.”</p><p>Minho nodded. “Impressive, kid. But how’d you know my favorite color? I don’t remember sharing that during our heart to heart the first night.”</p><p>“A get-to-know-you sheet you submitted online for the art class you took as a blow-off credit in secondary.” Jeongin said with a shrug. “The internet is forever, and I didn’t want to choose a color you hated.”</p><p>“Well, while in any other circumstance I would be pissed off by such a blatant disregard for my privacy,” Minho said, fitting the comm to his ear. “I do appreciate attention to detail and anyone who goes to great lengths to impress me.”</p><p>He made an overexaggerated gesture reminiscent of tipping his hat. </p><p>Everyone else tore into their packages to see what their resident boy-tech-wizard had conjured for them. </p><p>Changbin had silver accents. Felix had yellow. Hyunjin had white. Han red. Jeongin pink. </p><p>While everyone else was distracted by their new toys, Chan opened his own. He pulled out the comm carefully, turning it over in his palm. His didn’t have an accent color. It was fully black, but the ridges of his thumb picked up on an engraving on the side of it. He shifted it slightly to catch the light. </p><p>SKZ. </p><p>The letters were slanted, and it took a second for Chan to realize why the font was so familiar. </p><p>He looked over at Jeongin who smiled sheepishly. </p><p>“It stands for Stray Kids.” Jeongin explained before Chan had a chance to ask. “I saw that’s what you labelled a folder. I didn’t open it, but I liked the name and I couldn’t think of something special for yours, so I shortened it down and sampled some of your handwriting for the engraving.”</p><p>Chan ran his fingers over the lettering again. </p><p>“Don’t look through my stuff again.” Chan said, Jeongin withered slightly at the words before he added. “But I like this a lot, thank you.”</p><p>Jeongin beamed. </p><p>“Leave Seungmin’s on the counter by the coffee maker with a note, he’ll find it.” </p><p>Nodding, Jeongin hurried to go do just that. </p><p>“I’m so fucking glad this kid is with us.” Changbin whistled, returning the equipment to the box. </p><p>“I’ll second that.” Chan said, slipping his own box into his pocket and putting on his ‘everybody’ voice. “Alright, meeting adjourned, go about your days. Try not to die before this weekend.”</p><p>There were murmurs of ‘no promises’ and ‘we’ll see’, along with one worrying ‘don’t worry’ as the group split up to go do whatever it was they did during the day. </p><p>While the others dispersed, Jisung stayed behind, fiddling with his comm. </p><p>One of Minho’s cats had come out from hiding and was investigating Jisung’s pink fuzzy socks that Chan had gotten Jisung as a gag gift two Christmas’s ago with wide eyed curiosity. </p><p>“So…” Jisung said, trying to shoo the cat away with one hand, while attempting to maintain eye contact.</p><p>“So, you remember that detective that was such a pain for me a couple years ago during my father’s trial?” Chan said quietly. “The one that…”</p><p>Jisung’s eyes widened. </p><p>He sat up straight, bringing his hand up and just letting the cat continue. </p><p>Clearly he did remember that particular disaster. </p><p>“He’s still butting in around my family. He suspects me in particular for the disappearance of my father’s flea bag lawyer.” </p><p>“Did you…”</p><p>“No, but I did help hide the body and dispose of the car.” Chan continued. “That’s not the point. The point is that he’s been keeping an annoyingly close eye on us, as in everyone in this penthouse. That’s why I’m not on the ground with the rest of you. His main target is me. Hopefully I can keep his eyes turned away for the night so he doesn’t gain enough leverage for an arrest for anyone.”</p><p>“How long ago?” Jisung asked after a brief pause, looking up and meeting Chan’s eyes. </p><p>“A couple weeks. But I didn’t know how much he knew about everyone until a couple days ago.” </p><p>“Did…did he mention anything about me?”</p><p>Chan let out a heavy sigh. </p><p>All he could do was nod. </p><p>“Fuck.” Jisung said shakily</p><p>His hands fell to the table, but even as they weren’t actively toying with the comms, they were trembling slightly. </p><p>“He can’t make me go back, right? I’m not a kid, they…he can’t make me go back.”</p><p>Chan reached across the table to grab Jisung’s hands, squeezing them firmly. </p><p>“I promised you that I would protect you. I’ve broken that promise once, I’ll be damned if I do it again.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I got it done on time! </p><p>There won't be a chapter next week, I have exams to study for and I won't have internet, but I will be posting the week after. </p><p>If you celebrate it, have a Happy Thanksgiving, if you don't, have a good week and I'll be back December 4th.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A Night Out With Co-Workers and Uncomfortable Encounters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jisung goes to a party and it goes about as well as expected</p><p>TW: brief physical and verbal altercation</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a decade since Jisung had worn a suit, the last time being at his parent’s funeral, and he couldn’t say he was any fonder of the outfit ten years later than he had been when he was nine. How was it that a set of clothes could be so functionally useless. It was like wearing hell in clothing form indoors, but it had no ability to keep out the cold. The fabric would be more useful as a set of curtains, but no one asked Jisung his opinion on suits. But there he was anyway, in a useless set of clothing standing in the freezing cold outside the event, trying to stay as far away from Hwang Hyunjin as was believable for people that liked one another. </p><p>“Would you stop jumping around? You look ridiculous.” Hyunjin said. </p><p>Somehow Hyunjin wasn’t freezing to death. He’d probably gotten his made from some temperature controlled fabric, or Jisung’s theory was correct and he was actually a robot wearing a human skin, in which case Chan owed him quite a bit of money. Or maybe it was because he had actually brough a coat with him. In Jisung’s defense, he hadn’t realized that they’d be standing outside in freezing temperatures for nearly an hour. </p><p>“I’m small and I have zero body fat to keep me warm.” Jisung replied, hugging his arms around his middle. “If you’d rather your date be an ice sculpture than I’ll be sure to do as the rest of the population and oblige your every whim.”</p><p>“You’re not my date. You’re a plus one. And if you could turn into a block of ice that would be preferable to hearing the mindless chatter that comes out of your mouth.” Hyunjin said coolly. “The city would probably find the ice sculpture offensive to the general public and knock it down.”</p><p>“Pity the city then. True art is never appreciated until it’s too late.” </p><p>“Do you ever stop talking?”</p><p>“Only when it’s stops being effective.” Jisung said with a simpering smile. </p><p>Hyunjin took a long deep breath in before purging the excess irritation from his body with a long-suffering sigh. </p><p>He shrugged off his overcoat and held it out toward Jisung. “If I give you my coat, will you stop talking and stop jumping around like a child on a sugar high?”</p><p>“No promises.” Jisung said. </p><p>Normally he might’ve thought about refusing the coat, but he was cold and his own personal comfort beat out his natural urge to be as petty as humanly possible, so he snatched the coat from Hyunjin and pulled it over his shoulders. Plus there was the added bonus that Hyunjin would now be cold just for the sake of making him shut up, which was almost more satisfying than the warmth of the leftover body heat from Hyunjin’s coat. </p><p>They slowly edged up in line, while Hyunjin began bouncing on the balls of his feet as the effects of the cold he’d been berating Jisung about earlier started to take effect. It was rather entertaining to see him glancing over, wondering when Jisung would comment on it. As much restraint as it took, not commenting on it was much more rewarding from a psychological manipulation standpoint. </p><p>“Nothing to say?” Hyunjin said with a huff, his breath fogging up in the cold.  </p><p>Jisung shook his head. </p><p>Hyunjin rolled his shoulders back and stuck his hands in his pockets, his body hunching forward against the cold. </p><p>“Even when you’re not saying anything, somehow you’re still irritating.”</p><p>His teeth were chattering. </p><p>“One of my many charms.” Jisung said. </p><p>“Oh, you have more than one. Brilliant.” Hyunjin muttered. “Please keep them to yourself.”</p><p>“Your loss, pretty boy.”</p><p>Hyunjin clenched his jaw but neglected to respond to the taunt. </p><p>They finally made it to the door, waiting for the couple in front of them to show their invitation and get checked off of the list. Jisung could feel the warmth from inside the museum radiating out with the chatter and soft live music through the open doors. Even the small glimpse of golden light and the brief flash of a trailing dress was enough to make Jisung feel out of place. He may be dressed the part, but he felt like a bad actor in a cheap and tasteless costume, not suited to the role he’d been given to play. </p><p>Hyunjin looked every bit the son of a CEO or the young heir to an old family fortune, tall and perfectly formed, slender build seemingly handcrafted for elegant posture. He was so fucking perfect, and Jisung was…well…in Hyunjin’s regretfully accurate words ‘a disaster’. It seemed so easy for him, so unbelievably easy. While Chan’s brand of easy charm and elegance was one that bred admiration, Hyunjin’s was one that just managed to irritate Jisung to no end, and he couldn’t put his finger on why.</p><p>“We’re up.” Hyunjin grunted, nudging him with his shoulder. “The invitation is in the pocket of my coat.”</p><p>Jisung fished the invitation out and passed it over. </p><p>They stepped up to the security working the door. </p><p>“Hi, Hwang Hyunjin, and this is my plus one.” Hyunjin said easily, handing the invitation over for inspection.</p><p>The guards looked them over briefly, checking them off the list before letting them pass into the building. </p><p>“Food is served at seven and the auction starts at nine. The coat room is down the hall to your left.” One of them said over their shoulder, with practiced boredom. “Have a nice night.”</p><p>As soon as they entered the museum, past the metal detectors and additional security, Jisung shed the coat, tossing it at Hyunjin, who barely managed to catch it. He rolled his eyes and folded it over his arm, grabbing Jisung’s sleeve with his free hand to drag him along to the coat room. </p><p>“I thought it was your job to play babysitter tonight.” Hyunjin said. “Instead you’re acting even more childish than normal, and I’m not getting paid nearly enough for it.”</p><p>“Your job is to bat your eyelashes and laugh at jokes that aren’t funny.” Jisung snorted. “It’s not exactly a difficult skill to find in this city. The only difference between you and any other wannabe actor is that you lack a moral backbone. We’re only paying you for your lack of spine, so you’re earning way more than you’re worth as it is.”</p><p>Hyunjin stopped short in the hall, turning on Jisung abruptly and gripping his wrist firmly. The suddenness tripped Jisung back a few steps until his back hit the wall.</p><p>The impact wasn’t intense, but the breath was still stolen from his lungs as if it had been knocked out of him. </p><p>But he wasn’t scared. Not of how Hyunjin’s eyes flashed with anger, or the sharpness of his voice. Or how he loomed over Jisung, looking down at him as if Jisung were a step above nothing and had gotten underfoot. No. He wasn’t frightened of that. Not of how tightly Hyunjin’s hand clasped that Jisung could feel the bruises forming. Not of how if Jisung weren’t focused, their voices would sound the same. </p><p>No. He wasn’t scared of that. Of Hyunjin. And he wasn’t scared of what Hyunjin reminded him of. The tone of voice bringing back memories of dark rooms and deep bruises. </p><p>Because that would be absurd. </p><p>He wasn’t scared. </p><p>“I don’t understand how Chan can put up with you. You’re an arrogant, selfish, asshole with an overinflated sense of his own self-importance.” Hyunjin spat. “At least I have a use. The only reason you’re still around is because of Chan’s guilt-complex and a shitty childhood. All of our lives have been shit, which you would know if you ever thought of anyone but yourself or invested in getting to know anyone else instead of wallowing in your own self-pity. I am not going to indulge you all night, so grow the fuck up or just stay out of my way.”</p><p>There wasn’t a lump in his throat. And his eyes didn’t sting. </p><p>Because that would mean he was scared. That he was scared of Hyunjin. And he wasn’t. </p><p>“Wow,” Jisung said, hating the way his voice shook. “I’m beginning to remember why you ended up with a bloody nose the first time.”</p><p>A couple turned down the hallway. </p><p>Hyunjin clenched his jaw, pulling back his hand from Jisung’s wrist. “The others should have left our comm sets in the coat room, let’s just grab them, split up, and find Choi.”</p><p>And so they did. </p><p>Once they had their comm set, the two of them parted ways and entered the main event area where the rest of the guests were gathered. It seemed almost immediately that Hyunjin was swept away by some heiress or an aging widow or some lonely bachelor who for the conservative nature of their country couldn’t live quite so openly as they might otherwise have. Over the comms he could hear the bright conversations taking place around Hyunjin, as he expertly twisted the people surrounding him around his crooked fingers. </p><p>Jisung on the other hand was blessedly left alone on the perimeter of the gala beside the punch bowl, allowed to peacefully people-watch the crowd of dangerously wealthy socialites mingle. The odd looks he got just reminded him how pathetically out of place he was there. He could practically see the judgement seeping from every non-existent pore of their impossibly smooth skin. </p><p>Jisung pulled out his phone and pretended to take a call. </p><p>His hands were still a bit shaky, with the anxiety not having yet fully dissipated. It was irritating more than anything else now, after he’d lived with the symptoms for so long.</p><p>“We’re in place in the main event. How’s everyone else looking?” He said quietly. </p><p>“Jeongin’s all in place and the upstairs is clear. Felix should be ready for delivery whenever.” Changbin said, sounding a little bit out of breath. “Right, ‘lix?”</p><p>“Yeah, ready whenever the rest of you are.”</p><p>“Good, good.” Jisung said, trying to sound more authoritative than he felt. “Minho, you with us?”</p><p>“Locked and loaded, princess.” Minho replied. “Plus the girl at the bakery gave me a box of pastries free of charge so she wouldn’t have to waste perfectly good food by throwing it away when she closed up.” </p><p>“I’m so happy for you. I’m sure her concern for the food was entirely altruistic.” </p><p>“I appreciate that you think that I’m good-looking enough to encourage bakery employees to save day-old pastries from the trash. But she had a very nice girlfriend that suggested it. We now have a group-chat…on my recreational phone, not my work phone. But they are both very entertaining conversationalists, plus they both love cats, which is excellent because you lot can’t even remember the names of mine.” Minho said, clearly speaking while chewing. “But I’ll save you a chocolate filled croissant, if you want.”</p><p>Jisung didn’t even try to mask the weary sigh. </p><p>“Seungmin, you alive?”</p><p>“Barely,” Seungmin replied, sounding about as tired as Jisung felt. “I really didn’t think stopping for coffee would turn into an hour long social engagement. And the sound of chewing both next to me and over the comms might drive me to murder before I ever finish this unit.”</p><p>“I’m feeling slightly threatened.” </p><p>There was a beat of silence.</p><p>“Okay, I’ll just starve then.”</p><p>“And Jeongin, you’ve got eyes?” Jisung asked, moving past that. </p><p>“Yup. Everyone’s looking good.” Jeongin replied. “And to answer your follow up, I haven’t seen Choi yet. He’s been checked off the list, so he’s here, I just can’t pick him out, but I’ll keep looking.”</p><p>“Sounds good, keep us updated.” Jisung said, pulling his phone away and slipping it back into his pocket. </p><p>He let out a shuddering breath. </p><p>God, he hated parties. </p><p>He allowed himself to use his empty glass or his phone to be a crutch in order to limp away when someone approached him with a telltale odor of imminent meaningless conversations eking from every sweaty pore. A fake phone call or an urgent need for hydration were the most believable excuses to use and were a hell of a lot less awkward than whatever his disastrous attempt at being a normal human being might have potentially looked like. People were more forgiving of those things than any social ineptitude. He was a decent enough actor when trapped in a corner, but that was more of a one-time use flare for emergency purposes only. </p><p>The glass and phone ruse could only work so well in one place for so long, so he moved around the perimeter of the party, keeping an eye out for their mark and another on Hyunjin who moved through the middle of the party, charming smile visible at a distance. Somehow he’d gotten the copy of the script with all the notes in the margins, and Jisung had gotten the one with stains and most of the pages missing.</p><p>Jisung rolled his eyes, leaning up against the wall beside another painting of Mary and Baby Jesus, emptying his escape hatch of water as quickly as was dignified. </p><p>Over the comms he could hear the dulcet tones of Changbin beating the crap out of the security team upstairs, Felix sharpening a knife, and Minho chewing loudly. </p><p>He flubbed his lips. </p><p>Why did people like social events so much? The fact that there were people who liked talking to other people that they didn’t know well was baffling to him. The conversations meant nothing. At least not the one’s he was overhearing via Hyunjin’s comms.</p><p>How long could two people talk about interior decorating?</p><p>A long time apparently. </p><p>By the time Hyunjin had finished, Jisung had an extensive knowledge about the world of antique furniture and how to use accent colors for a sophisticated and cohesive design. </p><p>Jisung went to take another sip of water, only to find it disappointingly empty from having finished it only moments earlier. He looked up at Baby Jesus behind him and held up his cup. Nothing happened, unsurprisingly. If it had, he might have the Catholic Church descend upon him. And he wanted little to nothing to do with that. He’d dealt with enough shit without involving a religious institution into the mix.  </p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>Jisung startled as the voice came from both his comm and from beside him. </p><p>“Don’t fucking do that.” Jisung hissed, putting more space between them.</p><p>Hyunjin quirked a brow and leaned up against the wall. </p><p>“Do what?” He responded innocently. “I’m just standing here. Also, might want to watch your language. I don’t think Baby Jesus would approve.”</p><p>“I doubt Baby Jesus would approve of much of what you do either.” Jisung replied, his heartrate not yet back down to normal. </p><p>“Baby Jesus and I have an understanding.” Hyunjin said. “Much like your understanding with those downstairs, I presume.”</p><p>Jisung clenched his jaw, his grip on his cup tightening. </p><p>“Is the constant insults just the factory default for you? Or do you have to actually try to be this much of an asshole?”</p><p>Hyunjin didn’t answer, turning instead and reaching up toward Jisung’s face. For half a second, Jisung was paralyzed in place, his brain plotting out the worst case scenario for the next seconds.  But instead Hyunjin simply tugged the comm from his ear. </p><p>The spell was lifted.</p><p>“What the fuck-“ </p><p>“Look,” Hyunjin said, cutting him off sharply and taking out his own comm. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have done that.”</p><p>Well, that was unexpected. </p><p>“And I won’t do it again.” He continued; his eyes deadly serious. “I meant what I said. I don’t like you, but I’m not a monster. You have a line. I don’t know how or why it was drawn, but I won’t cross it. Alright?”</p><p>Jisung supposed he should say something equally eloquent in return. Unfortunately, his eloquence tended to come in short burst and never on command. He almost preferred Hyunjin to be antagonistic, he was so much better at sarcastic retorts. Heart-to-hearts or honest and vulnerable conversations were never his forte. </p><p>So he said the first auto-fill response that came to mind. </p><p>“Cool.”</p><p>Very, intelligent. </p><p>Hyunjin rolled his eyes. </p><p>“Now, can you stop just standing around. You don’t look as much like a part of the architecture as you seem to think.” He said</p><p>“I don’t know, everyone else seems convinced.” Jisung replied, making a show of looking around. “Give me my comm back.”</p><p>He thrust his hand out toward Hyunjin. </p><p>It was still shaking. Maybe he needed to eat something. Or maybe he just needed to go home and sleep, but neither of those things were liable to happen until they finished the job they were there to do. </p><p>Hyunjin sighed heavily. </p><p>It seemed things were back to normal. Or whatever normal-adjacent grey area that their group functioned solely in. </p><p>“Here you go, brat.”</p><p>He threw the device back to Jisung who barely caught it. </p><p>“Thanks for nothing, asshole.”</p><p>He put the comm back into place, only to be bombarded by voices over the lines. </p><p>“Oh, wait, no, they’re back online.” Jeongin called over the noise, sounding relieved. “Where were you?”</p><p>“Sorry, just had to have a private conversation.” Hyunjin said simply. “I’ll warn you all next time.”</p><p>“Please do, Jeongin thought you all were dead.” Minho said. “Poor kid was hopelessly distraught. I offered to help plan the funeral, but apparently that was ‘insensitive’.”</p><p>“I didn’t think they were dead. I just said they both went offline.” Jeongin replied irritably. “Don’t twist my words.”</p><p>“Thank you for your concern Jeongin. It’s nice to know I would be mourned.” Hyunjin said, smirking up toward one of the security cameras mounted on the wall. </p><p>“I didn’t think you were dead!” Jeongin groaned, sounding almost as though he were pouting. “I hate you all.”</p><p>“Ouch, I’m hurt, Innie.” Seungmin deadpanned. “I thought you were better than that. Oh, how quickly the world corrupts the hearts and minds of youth.”</p><p>Hyunjin grinned broadly. </p><p>“Can it, Shakespeare. Aren’t you supposed to be studying?” He asked, barely suppressing a laugh. </p><p>There was a heavy exhale to follow that statement. “Strictly speaking, yes, but intending to do so and actually managing to get it done are two very different things.”</p><p>Jisung tuned them out and starting scanning the crowd again for their target. </p><p>As it turned out, he didn’t have to look very hard. Because their target had already found them and was weaving through the crowd in his expensive tailored suit toward them. </p><p>Choi Ilsung looked even more the part of a sleezy lawyer who drank children’s tears and sucked the life out of anyone he touched. He was dressed like a cheaply made king, flaunting his wealth as though it were his only good quality. The man was cut from greed, sewn together by a lack of empathy, and overstuffed with an abundance of ruthlessness that threatened to burst the seams. He was exactly the type of person that made Jisung sick to his stomach. Jisung knew this kind of person on sight, having met enough of them on all sides of the law to know exactly the way they carried themselves. </p><p>Why he was walking toward them, Jisung couldn’t guess, but that appeared to be the state of things?</p><p>Jisung elbowed Hyunjin in the side. </p><p>“What was-“</p><p>“Choi. Straight ahead.” Jisung said quietly. </p><p>“Good, he got my email.” Hyunjin said matter-of-factly. “His secretary never got back to me about that.”</p><p>“You emailed him? Did Chan know?”</p><p>“Chan told me to do what I needed to do. So I did.” Hyunjin replied, straightening his posture slightly and testing his expression briefly. “Try not to mess this up for us.”</p><p>Before Jisung could think of a good retort, Choi landed in front of them. </p><p>“You are the young man who contacted me, I presume.” He said, sticking out his hand toward Hyunjin. </p><p>“I am, though I wasn’t even sure it would get to you, it was a shot in the dark to be quite honest.” Hyunjin said, his voice transforming into something softer and gentler than his usual abrasive tone. “But I’m glad you were able to talk to me.”</p><p>“I’m always glad to help young people like yourself become successful in any way I can. You said you were majoring in Criminal Law?” Choi said. “At Seoul National University Law School. That will be an impressive credential.”</p><p>“Yeah, I hope so.” Hyunjin said with a chuckle. “We are doing mock trials next week, so I hoped I could get your opinion on my opening and closing arguments for the case I was given. Seeing as you’re the frontrunner for the Supreme Court, hearing your expertise would be an amazing learning experience.”</p><p>“I’m flattered that you think so highly of me, and I’ll be happy to look over that, but first, won’t you introduce your friend here?” </p><p>And then Choi’s attention was focused solely on Jisung. </p><p>“This is my roommate, Jisung.” Hyunjin said, clearly caught off-guard by the request. “He doesn’t get out much, so I decided to drag him along as my plus one.”</p><p>“It’s good to meet you, Jisung.” </p><p>Jisung had little choice but to shake the man’s outstretched hand. </p><p>“You too.” </p><p>“And do you attend the university as well?”</p><p>“He-“</p><p>“I asked him.” Choi said sharply. </p><p>Hyunjin wilted slightly, his eyes flashing with a brief moment of panic.</p><p>“Jisung?”</p><p>There was a part of Jisung that hoped his appendix would just rupture on the spot, so he would have the excuse of being rushed to the hospital to get him out of this situation. Maybe some food poisoning from the food he hadn’t eaten. Or perhaps he could pass out. </p><p>Unfortunately, none of those particular misfortunes seemed to be readily available, so he was stuck doing what topped the list of things he hated most: conversing with strangers. </p><p>“No, I don’t.” Jisung said, figuring that would get him out of being asked questions about his major and specifics of the school that he had not done his homework on. “We actually rent an apartment off campus.”</p><p>Choi nodded. “Sounds reasonable. So, what do you do?”</p><p>What lie would sound convincing?”</p><p>“I work as an assistant at JYP Enterprises.” Jisung said. </p><p>Hyunjin elbowed him painfully in the ribs. Clearly he was not impressed with that response. </p><p>“Oh, really, I used to do some consulting there back ten or twelve years ago. Who’s assistant are you?” Choi asked. “One of the board members?”</p><p>“Bang Chan.”</p><p>“The son?’ Choi said, sounding more interested. “I’ve met him a couple times before. A very well groomed young man.”</p><p>Jisung had to resist the gag reflex that particular phrasing induced. Who the hell talked like that?</p><p>“How did you end up landing that position?”</p><p>Too many questions. This was the longest conversation Jisung had had with anyone, Chan included, in about…ever. His skin itched to just book it out of there, let Hyunjin clean up whatever mess he left behind. </p><p>But Chan had trusted him to get this done, and get it done right. So he had to. He owed it to Chan. He’d always owe it to Chan. </p><p>“A series of coincidental meetings.” Jisung replied. “We got to know each other fairly well, so he offered me the job.”</p><p>“A maddeningly vague answer.” Choi said with a chortle. “I have to ask though: do I know you from somewhere?”</p><p>Jisung’s heart dropped. </p><p>“Your face is very familiar.”</p><p>It wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities that someone would recognize him. He’d had about three weeks-worth of public photographs on the record, and his face had been plastered everywhere for a short time. Not his best period in terms of appearance, but that had sort of been the point. It was like he’d been some fifteen minute fame celebrity, if their achievement not been a one-hit wonder, but instead the simple action of not being dead when people had assumed he was dead. That, plus the nitty-gritty gory details that people loved for some reason, made him front page fodder until there was something even more tragic and horrific to shift their lenses to. </p><p>Still, the knowledge of that particular part of his life being well-documented didn’t stop Jisung from feeling all the more cornered. </p><p>“Jisung?” Jeongin said softly over the comms. “Your heart-rate skyrocketed, are you okay?”</p><p>Oh, right, the bracelets.</p><p>“I get that more often than you’d think,” Jisung said to Choi, forcing a smile to conceal the overwhelming anxiety that was threatening to cause him to spontaneously combust. “One of those faces or something.”</p><p>“No, you don’t have one of those face.” Choi said, tipping his head as though that might give him better insight. “It’s the eyes I think…I’ve seen them before…”</p><p>“With all due respect, sir,” Hyunjin interjected, his voice a semitone higher than usual, stepping out in front of Jisung. “But I’d really like to get your input before the auction starts.”</p><p>Choi waved him off, looking mildly irritated. “There’s plenty of time to do that still. I’d like to finish my conversation, if you don’t mind.”</p><p>“Jisung, do you need a minute?” Hyunjin asked softly, turning to Jisung with an expression that had never been pointed in his direction in the time they’d known one another. “Be honest.”</p><p>It occurred to Jisung suddenly that Hyunjin was completely blocking Jisung from Choi’s view. That occurrence lead to questions as to why, which he wasn’t completely sure how to answer. </p><p>“I’ll be fine.” Jisung replied, inhaling deeply to steady himself. </p><p>“You’d better be.” Hyunjin said under his breath as he turned back toward Choi. “Alright, you two can finish up, I’ll go get us some drinks. We can upstairs after, it’s quieter.”</p><p>Choi nodded distractedly, waving Hyunjin off. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”</p><p>As soon as Hyunjin was out of sight, Choi began the interrogation once more. </p><p>“So, how’d you meet the head of hair?” Choi asked. </p><p>“Friend of a friend.” Jisung replied, his unoccupied hand drumming restless against his thigh. “We both needed a roommate, so we decided it was better that then a total stranger.”</p><p>“A smart plan.” Choi said. “I do pity you though, law students can be horrible roommates.”</p><p>“It is what it is.” Jisung shrugged. </p><p>As much as he disliked proximity to Hyunjin, Jisung was beginning to miss the relative safety of it. He didn’t like being alone with this man. This wasn’t supposed to be his job. </p><p>Choi snapped suddenly, startling Jisung out of his skin. </p><p>“That boy they brought back from Malaysia a few years ago.” He said, appearing proud of the connection he’d made. “What’d they call him?”</p><p>Jisung gritted his teeth, knowing what was coming. </p><p>The press at the start hadn’t known his name. So, doing what they did best, they came up with a moniker for him. The name stuck. And for his safety, still being a minor at the time, his name was never officially released.  </p><p>“Doe-Eyes.” He said with a dry chuckle. “That was it, wasn’t it?”</p><p>“Who the fuck is Doe-Eyes?” Minho said over the comms. </p><p>“Were you dead five years ago?” Hyunjin asked. “It was all anyone could talk about for a while. We had assemblies about human trafficking and teacher’s would show the report in class sometimes.”</p><p>Jisung winced. </p><p>“Yeah, I remember my mom had me walk home with a buddy from the bus stop for while after that broke.” Jeongin chimed in. </p><p>“Five years ago, huh?” Minho mused. “I was in a coma actually. So I probably missed it.”</p><p>“In a coma?” Seungmin interjected. “How’d you manage that?”</p><p>“Car accident.” Minho said simply. “It’s also why I’m currently short a spleen. But what was the whole deal about?”</p><p>There was clearly not time to unpack that statement from Minho, no matter how curious Jisung was about that. And how much he needed the distraction from his current situation.</p><p>“I don’t remember all the details, but…here, let me look it up.” Seungmin said. </p><p>No. No. No. No.</p><p> There was no need to do that. </p><p>“Probably a strange thing to say to someone I just met.” Choi said heavily, looking the slightest bit embarrassed. “My apologies.”</p><p>Jisung smiled awkwardly. “No, it’s fine.” </p><p>It wasn’t. But nobody else needed to know that. </p><p>“No, wait, they do actually look pretty similar.” Seungmin said. “Wow.”</p><p>“Let me see.”</p><p>Don’t. </p><p>“But you really are a dead-ringer.” Choi continued on. “If he were to be grown up, you’d look identical.”</p><p>Jisung resisted the sudden urge to roll his eyes. </p><p>“Jesus, that’s Jisung, it has to be.” Minho exclaimed, apparently now in possession of whatever photo Seungmin had cued up. </p><p>“Focus on the mission here.” Changbin said, finally joining the conversation. “Why is Jisung with Choi?”</p><p>“Choi’s more interested in him for whatever reason.” Hyunjin explained. “I don’t know why, but I’m heading back now.”</p><p>Those words normally would not cause Jisung to sigh with relief, but the night was proving to subvert his usual reactions. </p><p>“Let’s head upstairs, shall we?” Choi said, motioning toward the stairs. </p><p>“Try and stall him for a little bit longer.” Hyunjin called, an edge to his voice. “Just say something, anything, that will keep him there.”</p><p>So, Jisung did. And he blurted out the first thing he could think of that would catch Choi’s attention long enough to keep him in place.</p><p>“You know, you were right.” Jisung said before he had a chance to rethink himself. “I do look like that boy…because I am him.”</p><p>Even though the conversations around the hall hadn’t stopped, it still felt as though all the sound and air had been vacuumed out of the space and everyone had managed to hear and care about the words he’d just said. Maybe it was because Choi wasn’t speaking, and there was no one talking on the comms any longer. </p><p>“You?”</p><p>Jisung could bring himself to speak so he just nodded. </p><p>“I always wondered what happened to that boy. My firm wasn’t given the case, so I never got to know.”</p><p>“I could tell you, after you meet with Hyunjin.” Jisung said. </p><p>He felt like a layer of grime had settled on him. Even if it was himself bartering away that information, he still felt exploited somehow.</p><p>“Or…” Choi stepped forward, closing what little gap there was between them. “We could forget about him entirely, and you could tell me now. I’m much more invested in your story than that of a law school brat with no manners.”</p><p>Jisung looked around, trying to find Hyunjin through the crowd, but he couldn’t. </p><p>“Now, come with me, and we can have that talk.” Choi said with a toothy smile, his hand landing on Jisung’s arm. </p><p>“You’ll have to go with him, I’ll catch up, and I can coach you over the lines until I do.” Hyunjin said. </p><p>And that was that. </p><p>Jisung wasn’t even aware of his feet moving until he was halfway through being guided up the stairs to the second floor.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And we're back. </p><p>As always, thanks for reading, commenting and/or leaving kudos. Hope everyone enjoyed this installment. Things will start picking up from here on out.</p><p>We should be back to our normal updating schedule for Fridays.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Undesirable Company and the Violation of a Few Laws</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jisung and Hyunjin have to work together, but they don't have to like it.</p><p>TW:// references to past abuse</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On Jisung’s tenth birthday, he was picked up from the airport in Malaysia to go live with his aunt and uncle and their son. They had bought him a cake to celebrate, colored with brightly colored frosting and rich filling. They gifted him with new clothes, a school uniform, books, and his own set of bedsheets. His own bed. For dinner, the whole family, including his older cousin, helped make his favorite food. It had been the best birthday of his life. He thought for sure that his life would be getting better from there. After all, people who are going to hurt you don’t give you gifts…right?</p><p>Unfortunately, he’d been wrong. Very wrong. </p><p>It turned out that for him, good moments could only last a couple hours at most. </p><p>He wasn’t allowed to remember that birthday, or any birthday after that, in a good light. For him, with every burst of light, shadows were ready to pounce. And that birthday became the source of most things in the world that he feared. </p><p>Like people touching him. </p><p>It didn’t even have to be violent. Just people touching him. </p><p>It had taken a while for him to get to the level of comfort to be able to hug Chan in order to go to sleep. But Chan was different. </p><p>Choi wasn’t. And his hand on the small of Jisung’s back wasn’t help to settle Jisung’s raging nausea.</p><p>“So, how do you find working for JYPE?” Choi asked as they fell into a leisurely walking pace along the railing that looked down over the first floor hall. “I heard the CEO passed recently. Have they got a replacement yet?”</p><p>“Not so far as I know.” Jisung said. “I think there’s an acting CEO at the moment. But it’s not a bad place to work. Keeps me busy.”</p><p>Chan rarely talked about actual company things. In fact, he talked so little about it, Jisung hadn’t even been aware that there was a family company until a couple years after knowing Chan. Needless to say, Jisung had to rely solely on his knowledge from dramas and what sounded sort of right. Or in other words, lying out of his ass.</p><p>“That’s always good.” Choi nodded. “Good work environment?”</p><p>Well, he got to laze around a penthouse for most of the time, so he’d say so. </p><p>“Yeah. A few people that I could take or leave, but it’s a good fit for me I think.” </p><p>“Good, good.” Choi said, it was clear that he was itching to ask something. </p><p>Thankfully, he refrained, and they turned into an exhibit out of sight of the first floor, the noise fading out behind them as they continued walking. </p><p>“Jeongin, can you isolate Jisung and my channels?” Hyunjin asked over comms. “We need to be focused, but I don’t want the others to have to lose contact if there’s an emergency.”</p><p>“I can switch your frequency.”</p><p>“Perfect.”</p><p>A couple of seconds later…</p><p>“Alright, you’re isolated. I’m still with you if you need me.” Jeongin said. </p><p>“Sounds good.”</p><p>At least his potentially sensitive information would have less ears. Any ears were too many. Especially when those ears included Hyunjin’s ears. Hopefully he wasn’t forced to say anything too…whatever…he didn’t want Hyunjin in possession of that kind of ammunition. </p><p>But Jisung rarely ever really got what he wanted.</p><p>“So, you’re…”</p><p>“Yeah, I am. Never meet your heroes, right?” Jisung laughed mirthlessly. </p><p>“I don’t know, you seem alright. I’ve met far worse in my profession.” Choi said, patting his back roughly. </p><p>Jisung had to stutter to get his feet back under him. But at least Choi wasn’t touching him any longer.</p><p>“Is that so?” Jisung said, straightening the fabric of his suit jacket. </p><p>“I’ve seen some pretty nasty cases in my time. Quite a few recognizable people. Cameras and filters don’t equal decency.” Choi explained. “Makes relaxing and watching TV a bit more of a challenge than it used to be.”</p><p>The corner of Jisung’s mouth quirked involuntarily. </p><p>“But, back to you, if you don’t mind.”</p><p>“Of course not.” Jisung said. </p><p>He did mind. He minded a lot. </p><p>“From what I know, you were ten when you went over there, and you were fifteen when you were brought back.” Choi said. “You go in a healthy well-adjusted, ten year old-“</p><p>Debatable. </p><p>“And you come out-“</p><p>A walking corpse. Or a wheelchaired corpse. He was confined to the damned thing for what had felt like an eternity. Apparently being near-fatally emaciated made him a fall risk. </p><p>“Well, I don’t need to tell you.” Choi laughed, sounding almost uncomfortable. “But I’ve never been able to find out how you were found. So far as I could find, the police showed up on a whim.”</p><p>He wasn’t quite sure how to twist the truth into something that didn’t sound completely batshit crazy. </p><p>“Um…yeah, my uncle owed some money to some people. Someone was sent to collect. Found me. Made a different call. Had the police come to make the whole thing more official and legal.” Jisung said, painfully aware that both Jeongin and Hyunjin could hear every word he said. ”From there is pretty much public knowledge. At least, last time I checked my search results it was.”</p><p>“You look yourself up?” </p><p>“I’m usually the last person notified when there’s new information being put out, so I do check from time to time.” Jisung admitted. </p><p>“For what it’s worth, I’m glad whoever it was made the call they did.” Choi said. “I’ve enjoyed meeting you.”</p><p>“Thank you.” </p><p>They continued walking for a bit, neither speaking as they passed by the dimly lit paintings and sculptures. As time passed, Jisung could feel Choi’s hand settle onto his back again, edging slowly around to latch at his waist. </p><p>It was unnerving enough being in a dark, unoccupied part of the museum, that in itself felt forbidden, but being there with someone like this…someone he wouldn’t trust to turn his back on, made it doubly so. The ghosts haunting the painting seemed to be screaming for him to run. To get out while he still could. As if they knew something bad was going to happen. </p><p>“I’m upstairs, Jeongin, can you find them for me?” Hyunjin said in Jisung’s ear. </p><p>“On it. Just give me a second.”</p><p>Choi stopped. </p><p>“I’d like to continue getting to know you, but an auction isn’t really conducive to productive conversation.” He said. “I could buy you a meal. Tonight, if you’d like. I don’t really need any more junk in my home anyway.”</p><p>“Um…” </p><p>Real smart, Jisung. </p><p>“Say something.”</p><p>That was helpful. He hadn’t thought of that. </p><p>He’d thought Hyunjin was supposed to be his little Jiminy Cricket through this whole ordeal, telling him what to do. But so far, Hyunjin had been even more useless and unhelpful than he normally was.</p><p>“What do you think?” Choi asked. </p><p>“Um…I really shouldn’t leave.” Jisung said. </p><p>“Why not? Your roommate?” Choi said, his hand dropping from Jisung’s hip, brushing at Jisung’s own as it fell back to his side. “You really are a pure soul.”</p><p>“What do you mean by that?” </p><p>His voice was weakening rapidly.</p><p>Jisung took a couple small steps back from Choi. </p><p>“It’s clear you don’t like him very much but are much too kind to say so.” He said. “Why spend an evening with someone like that, when you can enjoy a meal…with me? Would you really turn down a meal with me?”</p><p>“I made a commitment.” Jisung replied, gripping his empty water glass tighter, as though that might anchor him. “So did you, I think it’s best if we honor those. And if you would really like to have a meal, we could do it some other time.”</p><p>“Come now. I’m sure you wouldn’t be missed.” Choi said, his voice too close to a croon for Jisung’s personal comfort. “Besides, it would be a shame if I couldn’t be convinced not to publish that information about your employer. Everything that company has been covering up for years.”</p><p>He reached up and fixed a stray lock of hair that had fallen into Jisung’s face. Jisung’s breath hitched in his throat as his entire body froze. </p><p>“I would hate for that to happen, but I am a man of the law.” He said, almost succeeding in sounding torn. “I am sworn to my duty to uphold it.”</p><p>So that was why Chan wanted this guy dead. It made sense. </p><p>“What do you want?”</p><p>“I’ve already told you,” Choi said. “I want to buy you a meal. Talk with you. That’s all.”</p><p>“Like hell that’s all.” Hyunjin spat. “Location, Jeongin!”</p><p>“I’m trying, I have to flip through all the cameras manually, and if they’re standing in a blind spot I won’t be able to find them.”</p><p>Hyunjin swore under his breath. </p><p>“So? Are we understood?”</p><p>“Perfectly.” Jisung said, his voice barely a whisper. </p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Choi’s eyes flicked over him once, a cruel smile barely suppressed on his lips. </p><p>It was at that point that Hyunjin stumbled into the space, doing a double take as he came to a stop. Though it was clear it was accidental, Hyunjin attempted to make it seem like it hadn’t been.</p><p>“Might want to take a couple steps back.” Hyunjin said, his voice sounding jovial, but his eyes were sharp. “You seem to be breaching some personal space.”</p><p>“I’m glad you could catch up with us,” Choi said, clearly displeased. “We were just talking.”</p><p>“I’m sure,” Hyunjin said coolly. “Jisung get over here.”</p><p>Jisung didn’t need to be told twice. </p><p>He started over toward Hyunjin, the irony not lost on him, but it was better the enemy he knew versus the enemy he didn’t. </p><p>“Remember our deal, Jisung.”</p><p>It seemed the Han-family luck struck again. </p><p>A hand clasped around his wrist. </p><p>It was like the straw that broke the camel’s back. Jisung could feel the sticky texture of Choi’s skin touching his own, the disgusting clamminess sending a shockwave of nausea over him. It was different when he could see it coming and mentally prepare for it, like a handshake, or when there was a layer of fabric between them, like earlier. Still uncomfortable, but he could manage it. </p><p>But that…that was too much. </p><p>His legs gave way from beneath him. </p><p>“Jisung!”</p><p>“Hyunjin, what’s going on?” Jeongin cried frantically over the comms. “You found him?”</p><p>Jisung felt himself fall heavily against Hyunjin, who grunted with the effort to keep him upright. Slowly, he was lowered to the floor. </p><p>“Please, don’t touch him.” Hyunjin said, standing up again once Jisung was settled on the floor so he could no longer fall on the floor. “And whatever deal you made with him; I can uphold it just fine in his stead. That is, if there wasn’t any other particular reason you were luring my friend away.”</p><p>Choi scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but you’ve got a lot of gull, boy.”</p><p>“I’m not insinuating anything, sir.” Hyunjin said, stepping around Jisung and toward Choi. “And is it really gull if we both know how little I would have to stretch to get to such a conclusion?”</p><p>“I suppose not.” </p><p>Choi looked Hyunjin up and down, looking either like he was sizing him up or deciding whether he could eat him alive. Either way, he didn’t appear impressed. </p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So what?” Choi said, moving around Hyunjin. “I’ve seen your police report, pretty boy.”</p><p>Hyunjin flinched.</p><p>“Another infraction and it’s jail time. But if you were really studying law, you would know that. And I don’t think your benefactor will be so willing to bail you out again.”</p><p>Tension sat stagnant in Hyunjin’s shoulders. Clearly Choi was getting under his skin.</p><p>“You are in no position to bargain with me. And we both know it.” </p><p>“What do you want?” Hyunjin asked, his voice clearly doing its best to stay steady.</p><p>“I want to buy your friend a meal. Maybe invite him up to my office for a drink.” Choi said. “That’s all.”</p><p>“Bullshit.”</p><p>“Who do you think a jury would be more likely to believe, should I say that you hadn’t learned from your mistakes, Hwang Hyunjin?”</p><p>There was a pregnant pause. </p><p>Then Hyunjin laughed. His voice bouncing off of the cavernous walls of the empty room.</p><p>“Yeah, well,” Hyunjin chuckled. “They’re not here right now. I am.”</p><p>“Are you threatening me?”</p><p>It was like Hyunjin’s entire posture changed. The tension vanished into thin air, replaced by the casual confidence that usually occupied that place.  </p><p>“If you have to question it, I clearly have to do a better job.” Hyunjin said, cocking his head slightly. </p><p>Jisung could hear the smirk in his voice, he could practically see it based solely on the look on Choi’s face. He knew that smirk well enough that he could read all of the symptoms from memory. </p><p>“I have your daughter’s number.” Hyunjin continued. “And your wife’s.”</p><p>“You’re bluffing.”</p><p>“Am I? Shall we find out?”</p><p>He took a step forward, and Choi tried to keep the distance between them. </p><p>“Let’s call your daughter.”</p><p>Taking his phone out, he tapped a few times before the sound of a call ringing through the line filled the quiet space. It rang once, than twice, but Choi looked more nervous than Hyunjin did with each passing tone. </p><p>“Should I tell her about the kids?” Hyunjin asked, almost sounding bored. “Wanna take bets on who she’ll believe? I mean, I’m there more often than you are nowadays. I should know.” </p><p>Hyunjin checked the nails on his free hand.</p><p>“Where did you buy your mattresses from? I asked Miyoung, but she said you bought them. They’re really supportive. I can honestly say that I’ve never had a better night’s sleep.”</p><p>Finally, the ringing stopped</p><p>“Hello, Jinnie?” A girl’s voice crackled through the speaker. </p><p>The blood seemed to drain from Choi’s face. </p><p>“Hi, Bora, just wanted to check up with you. I know you had that big exam today.” He said, clearly laying on the charm more than was probably necessary. “Did it go well?”</p><p>“Yeah, I think it went really well.” Bora replied. </p><p>“Awesome.” Hyunjin laughed. “Well, I just wanted to check in. I remember you saying how big it was. Maybe we can go grab some ice cream or something to celebrate.”</p><p>“I don’t even know if I passed yet.” </p><p>“You did. I know you did. And when the grades come back and you see yourself that you did, we can go out for ice cream again.”</p><p>“You are going to rot my teeth if I keep spending time with you, Hwang Hyunjin.” Bora scolded playfully. “My dentist is going to be pissed at me.”</p><p>“You can throw me under the bus. I don’t mind at all.” </p><p>The two sounded as though they’d known each other for a long time, which was weird, considering Chan had only let them in on the mission and target earlier that week. It seemed impossible for someone, even Hyunjin, to cultivate a relationship this casual in under a week. Either Chan had told Hyunjin ahead of time, or else Hyunjin already knew the family somehow or had already been planning to go after Choi before he’d joined up. Maybe both scenarios were true simultaneously. </p><p>Speaking of Chan, he hadn’t spoken once that entire evening. Even before Jeongin had isolated their channels.</p><p>“Oh,” Hyunjin added. “Say ‘hello’ to your mom for me.”</p><p>“Will do.” She said. “And Mom wanted me to thank you for the flowers you sent. It was very sweet.”</p><p>“I’m glad you both liked them. And I’m sorry again that I couldn’t make it to dinner.”</p><p>“No, no, you’re fine. I know you’ve been busy.” She said quickly. “Maybe next time, are you free next Saturday?”</p><p>“I will make sure I am.” </p><p>“Good, I’ll see you then. Bye.”</p><p>“Bye.” </p><p>With that, Hyunjin hung up, turning his head back toward Choi. </p><p>“Did that sound more like a threat?”</p><p>Hyunjin’s voice was that of barely contained feral glee. He enjoyed this. </p><p>“You don’t touch them.” Choi spluttered. </p><p>Hyunjin shook his head and snorted. “A bit late for that, I’m afraid. Are you ever planning on getting the window fixed? It gets rather warm when you can’t open it. But I’m sure you already knew that. Unless of course…you didn’t.”</p><p>It seemed Hyunjin was just naturally gifted at getting under people’s skin, not just Jisung’s. He wasn’t sure whether to be comforted in shared misery, or slightly jealous that he wasn’t Hyunjin’s sworn enemy. </p><p>“I’m going to kill you.” Choi growled, lunging toward Hyunjin.</p><p>Hyunjin easily side-stepped it, but Jisung barely rolled out of the way before Choi momentum came crashing to the floor. </p><p>“No,” Hyunjin said, bracing the sole of his shoe against the back of Choi’s neck and slipping the phone back in his pocket. “I don’t think that’s going to happen tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>It took about twenty minutes to drag Choi’s unconscious body to their agreed upon location. Even in the midst of a risky predicament, wherein their lifeless body could regain consciousness at any moment, Hyunjin still managed to find over a dozen creative ways to berate Jisung for his lack of upper body strength and inability to meaningfully help drag the dead weight of a fully grown man through three exhibits and two hallways. What a talent. He should have taken up employment as a teacher, his beratements would have fit in perfectly based solely on Jisung’s short experience with the world of education and what he had seen in dramas.</p><p>They were back on the main channels again, so everyone online could hear the lovely sound of them panting as they heaved the body along. Being in context, Jisung could just imagine how it sounded to those out of it. </p><p>“Hey, Felix?” Hyunjin grunted. “Rounding the corner to you, be ready.”</p><p>“Roger that. Ready when you are.”</p><p>What felt like an eternity later, Hyunjin pushed through the bathroom door with his back.</p><p>“How do you survive being the consistency of a wet noodle?” Hyunjin said irritably. </p><p>“How do you survive with such a large stick up your-“</p><p>Jisung didn’t get to finish his retort, as they walked into the bathroom. </p><p>As far as Jisung knew, bathrooms weren’t generally lined with plastic, but maybe he hadn’t visited a public restroom outside of Taeil’s place in a while. Maybe the interior decorating normality for bathrooms had changed that dramatically.</p><p>He’d have to ask Hyunjin about that. </p><p>“Just put him down wherever.” Felix directed, stepping out of the way against the row of sinks as the two of them dropped the body onto the floor. </p><p>“Work your magic.” Hyunjin said. </p><p>“Changbin, delivery is made, make your way over here.” Jisung called over the comms. </p><p>“On it.”</p><p>Felix pushed away from the sinks to inspect what he was working with. </p><p>“What did you use to get him out?” Felix asked, squatting down and tipping his head as though he were a dog inspecting an interesting new toy. </p><p>“Chloroform.” Hyunjin said. </p><p>“How very campy TV villain of you.” Felix said, looking up at them with a mischievous grin. “Want a moment to monologue?”</p><p>“It wasn’t my first choice.” Hyunjin replied defensively. “But I had to think of something. Thankfully the janitorial staff had bleach and rubbing alcohol in good supply. And Jisung isn’t totally incompetent.”</p><p>Jisung huffed irritably. </p><p>“That was a compliment, dumbass.” Hyunjin said, elbowing him in the side. “You probably don’t get them very often, so I can understand your confusion.”</p><p>No. He really didn’t get many compliments. And that was fair enough. He was a self-declared piece of shit, who thought he was the worst, but he also had a pretty decent sized superiority complex. A little bit of flavor to the mix of trauma and gas-lighting that had destroyed any sense of self-esteem. He hated himself, but he still thought he was better than everyone else.</p><p>He knew that about himself. And had come to terms with that paradoxical piece of his garbage fire of a personality.</p><p> However, the fact that it was true didn’t make Jisung any less miffed about it.  </p><p>Maybe it was more the fact that it was true and it was coming from Hyunjin that made it hit differently. </p><p>“You both can go now.” Felix said, waving them both away, pulling a kitchen knife out what seemed like nowhere. “I’ve got this. Meet you at the garage.”</p><p>It seemed like a good enough cue as any to leave. </p><p>So, they did. </p><p>They retraced their steps through the galleries back to the top of the stairs. </p><p>“I’m in place.” Changbin said over comms. </p><p>“Good, Hyunjin and I are heading out now.” Jisung said. “Jeongin, might want to start packing up and wiping things down now. Let us know when the rest of you leave.”</p><p>There were enough replies to the affirmative, that Jisung felt safe enough to keep moving. </p><p>Except he couldn’t. </p><p>Hyunjin had caught him by the elbow, stopping him in his tracks. </p><p>Having enough jump-scares for one night, Jisung tugged his arm away, hating how his heart raced, egged on by his all but frayed nerves. He knew it was Hyunjin. Logically, it had to be. But that didn’t mean anything to his instinct. </p><p>He pulled out his comm.</p><p>“What?” Jisung snapped, trying not to sound like a scared and cornered animal. </p><p>“I just wanted to make sure you were good. First time doing a job like this can be jarring.” Hyunjin said frigidly, removing his own. “Next time I won’t bother.”</p><p>“I’m fine.” Jisung said, straightening up. </p><p>“Good.” </p><p>Hyunjin started down the stairs. </p><p>As Jisung watched, a question started like an itch at the back of his mind. Growing unbearable until he blurted it out to satiate the discomfort. </p><p>“Why were you so worried?” </p><p>Hyunjin stopped and looked back at him. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I-“ Jisung started, feeling his face flush as he quickly started to lose his nerve. “Back there…when I was alone. Why did you sound so freaked?”</p><p>“I wasn’t.” Hyunjin said, turning away again. </p><p>“You might be able to bullshit everyone else, but you can’t bullshit me, Hwang Hyunjin.” Jisung said sharply. “You’re not as great an actor as you seem to think.”</p><p>“Neither are you, but I never bring it up.”</p><p>“What is that supposed to mean?” </p><p>Hyunjin inhaled deeply. “You play act at bravado, but you’re scared of everything that moves. I’ve seen the way you jump at loud noises and flinch away whenever someone raises their voice or brushes past you.”</p><p>Okay. </p><p>“Nothing interesting on Netflix?” Jisung asked. “Or can you just not keep your eyes off of me?”</p><p>“There it is again.” Hyunjin said, almost sounding bored. </p><p>“You never answered my question, so you’re not any better.”</p><p>Hyunjin shrugged. “Never claimed to be.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So what?”</p><p>Jisung grit his teeth. “What freaked you out so much?”</p><p>“If I tell you, will you leave me be for the rest of the night?”</p><p>That had been the plan regardless, but Hyunjin didn’t need to know that. </p><p>Jisung nodded. </p><p>“Tell anyone else and I will slit your throat myself and your ghostly ass will see how good of an actor I am.” Hyunjin said lowly. </p><p>“Okay, Liam Neason.” Jisung mumbled under his breath.</p><p>“Do you want to know or not?”</p><p>Jisung held his hands up in mock surrender. </p><p>Hyunjin took a steadying breath. </p><p>“His history.” Hyunjin said simply. “Chan gave me the file as soon as he recruited me, so I would be able to do some digging. I had Jeongin pull some sealed records for me when we moved in. And I connected the dots about Choi.”</p><p>It made a few things clear, but Jisung still was unsure about how chummy Hyunjin had been on the phone. Perhaps he was just one of those people that could slither into the ranks and assimilate quickly. </p><p>“What dots?”</p><p>“Let me speak and I’ll tell you, if only to get a night of reprieve.” </p><p>They paused, waiting for a couple to come up the stairs past them. </p><p>“Chan wanted him gone because of some dirt Choi had on Park Jinyoung’s business and family. Dirt that any detective worth their salt would kill to get their hands on.” Hyunjin continued. “But I found that Choi has had a history of covering up his own nasty secrets.</p><p>“Allegations from temps and a couple wrongful deaths were swept under the rug. I managed to track down the original people that reported him. They had a gag order, so they couldn’t legally say much, but he had a pattern with…victims. Take them out for a meal. Pressure or blackmail if he felt he had to. Invite them up to his office for a drink, where he’d either get them too drunk to know up from down or help the process along. One or two ended up dead by the end of the night from an overdose or choking on their own vomit.”</p><p>Jisung’s stomach churned.</p><p>“Answer your question?”</p><p>And a few others. </p><p>“Am I free to go?”</p><p>Jisung nodded. </p><p>They descended into the main hall, slipping through the crowd toward the exit. </p><p>After grabbing Hyunjin’s coat, the two of them headed outside and off their separate ways as originally planned.</p><p>As Jisung walked, hunched over against the cold, he put his earpiece back in. There was the telltale chatter over the line, Minho doing a dramatic reading from Seungmin’s textbook and the lovely sound of whatever the hell Felix was doing. He almost tuned it out, trying to remember which turns he was supposed to be taking, but then he froze. </p><p>Someone was following him. </p><p>At first he thought it was his paranoia, but a couple of turns later, and he was back where he started with his shadow still attached. </p><p>As if the night couldn’t get any worse. </p><p>Jisung pulled out his phone and pretended to dial a number.</p><p>“Hey, Jinnie?”</p><p>“Since when did you call me, Jinnie?”</p><p>“I remembered what my English name was just now.” Jisung said, fighting the urge to look over his shoulder, instead relying on the reflection in shop windows as he hurried to find a crowd of witnesses should anything turn South. </p><p>“What are you talking about?” Hyunjin said. </p><p>Everyone else had gone quiet. </p><p>“It’s Peter. Like Peter Pan, except I’ve got a shadow. And I don’t think I can lose it.”</p><p>“Wait-You’re being followed?” Minho asked, his voice cutting in and out. </p><p>“Bingo.” Jisung said. </p><p>Then even the static cut out to dead silence. </p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>No answer. </p><p>He dialed a number into his phone. The call wouldn’t even ring through. </p><p>“If you can still hear me, I’m about ten minutes out from the car.” Jisung said, hoping that it was just a connection error. </p><p>He slid his phone back into his pocket.</p><p>It was that slight distraction, that tiny moment of not paying attention, that cost him dearly. </p><p>In a matter of seconds, a car slid up to the curb, the back door burst open, an arm wrapped around his waist and covered his mouth from behind, and he was bodily pulled into the vehicle. The door slammed shut and the car took off down the street before Jisung could even think of how to react. </p><p>He was shoved off of his assailant’s lap into the middle seat and next to another stranger, the one who had presumably opened the door. </p><p>“He’s lighter than I was expecting.” The one to his right.</p><p>It was dark so he couldn’t really make out faces. </p><p>“So this is the famous Han Jisung.” A voice from the passenger’s seat said, as they turned around to look at him. </p><p>Jisung’s mouth felt as though it were sewn shut for all that he could say. </p><p>“I’m YoungK.” The passenger said. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Another installment. </p><p>Hope it was enjoyable. Thanks for taking the time to read another little bit of my humble offering.</p><p>Be back next week at this same time.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Meeting Over Milkshakes and Some Disturbing News</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Chan is sidetracked by an old friend and gets some information that he doesn't like</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As per usual, the best laid plans of Bang Chan often went awry. </p><p>Perhaps the universe hated him. Or whatever controlled the hands of fate just liked to screw around with his life to see how much bad luck a person could take before they just gave up. It was a good experiment, taking such a stubborn person like himself, and just tripping him up at every possible turn, seeing how long he would go before he realized it was futile. </p><p>After all this time, one would think that Chan would be used to failure. </p><p>It was just as irritating then as it had been before. </p><p>He could make his plans with more flexibility, and account for more possible errors, than anyone else on the planet, and still, his predisposition for disaster always found some loophole to exploit. </p><p>Still, drinking a milkshake at a hole-in-the-wall diner, while listening to the best of whatever artist had possessed the vintage jukebox that was pushed into the corner, wasn’t the worst case that Chan had experienced.</p><p>It could have been worse. </p><p>“So,” Sana said, sitting cross legged on the seat across from him, breaking the silence after a final slurp of her own milkshake. “You came.”</p><p>“I did.”</p><p>It had been a while since the two of them had spoken. </p><p>In that time, Sana had grown her hair out and dyed it pink, which was a good look on her. </p><p>Due to the short notice, neither of them were particularly dressed for the occasion. Sana being in sweats and a big purple tee-shirt, with her hair tied back out of her face for better milkshake partaking, and Chan being dressed up for what he had originally planned on doing that night, in a dress shirt and slacks. Perhaps the combination of the two would cancel each other out. </p><p>“Well, I guess some people owe me money.” She said with a pleasant smile, picking up her spoon to fish out the whipped cream and cherry at the bottom of the glass. </p><p>Chan raised his brow. “They know you’re meeting me?”</p><p>Sana nodded.</p><p>“Some of the others placed a bet on whether or not you would come if I asked.” </p><p>“Makes sense.” He shrugged. </p><p>Once Sana had successfully emptied her glass, she puffed out her cheeks, folding her hands in her lap and looking around at the peeling posters and neon lights that decorated the mostly empty ice cream shoppe. </p><p>“Feel free to talk about what you brought me here to talk about,” Chan said, pulling the plate of fries toward himself. “Don’t let me stop you.”</p><p>“Oh, right.” She said, her expression somewhat delayed from the tone of her words, as if she had been caught off guard. </p><p>“Unless we’re waiting on someone else?” Chan said.</p><p>“You don’t trust me, Channie?” She asked, a playful pout toying at her face.</p><p>Chan pulled out a saccharine grin. “Not on my life. I like you, Sana, but I don’t trust you.”</p><p>“Because I’m working with Jihyo.” She said flatly. </p><p>It was a statement more than a question. </p><p>“Yeah, and Jihyo has been very transparent about the fact that she wants me dead.” He scoffed. “Forgive me for not being as chummy as we used to be.”</p><p>“Fair enough.” Sana said, leaning back against her chair. “Makes you wonder why you’ll give me the time of day but won’t pick up any of BamBam’s calls.”</p><p>Chan gritted his teeth. </p><p>“Are you just here to lecture me about my personal life?”</p><p>Sana didn’t answer right away, only partly because of the waitress, a poor girl around their own age that was being kept from clearing up by their late arrival, came over to their table to put the order of fries down. They both thanked her quickly and she went back into the kitchen. </p><p>“Partly, I do still care about your well-being. It’s not exactly healthy, is it?” She said, taking her hair down and handing him the scrunchie. “Hold this.”</p><p>He did as he was told, watching patiently as she twisted her hair up and out of the way again, predictably for more optimal food consumption.  </p><p>“Why not cut me off for joining up with Jihyo?” </p><p>She beckoned for him to hand her the scrunchie again. </p><p>Did every person he was friends with have the ability to see him so transparently? Or was he just naturally that transparent and only his friends would call him on it?</p><p>He handed over the scrunchie.</p><p>“Because you were always going to join up with Jihyo. Neither of us had any preconceived notions about where you’re loyalties were. BamBam…” Chan sucked in a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. What did you bring me here to discuss?”</p><p>“Can I not just want to sit down and talk with a friend?” She asked, plucking a fry from the plate. </p><p>Her manicure looked fresh, but it was already chipped and there were already grease stains caught in the crevices. Sana had always been like that. She liked pretty things almost as much as she liked playing in the dirt. Neither fact contradicted the other. Like how her clumsiness didn’t contradict her detailed focus. She was only a paradox to those still blinded by the tropes of popular media. </p><p>“A few months ago, maybe, but not now.” Chan said, looking over at her with a knowing . </p><p>She dipped her fry into his milkshake with the expression of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. “Fair enough.” </p><p>“You are the worst.”</p><p>“I’m aware.” She grinned, taking a bite. “But that’s why you love me.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” Chan asked. “Because I’d say that ranks near the bottom of that list.”</p><p>“What’s at the top?”</p><p>“Are you avoiding something?”</p><p>Sana looked at him seriously, reaching across the table to cup both of his hands with her own, as if she were a parent giving bad news to a child, or at least the way a normal parent would give bad news to a child. Probably, he’d only seen it in sitcoms. So, he wasn’t even sure what was normal and what was trope. His father had just given bad news as a bulleted list during dinner with no time for processing or questioning.</p><p>“We haven’t spoken in three months, Channie, let me have this,” She said, clearly two seconds from breaking character. “Then I promise we can talk about the serious shit or whatever.”</p><p>There was no telling her no. </p><p>He’d get nowhere in any debate with her; he knew that much from past experience. It would just take longer in the end. </p><p>“Fine…”</p><p>Sana smirked victoriously. </p><p>“Go on.”</p><p>“At the top is the fact that you’ve never seriously attempted to kill me.”</p><p>“The bar is literally the floor with your entire family.” She said with a moderately concerned expression on her face. “I told Jihyo she had a nice laugh, and I swear she nearly cried.”</p><p>That was information that was not particularly useful to him in this conflict, but as a younger sibling, he quietly filed that away for later. Once a little brother, always a little brother. Didn’t matter if they were both feeling a touch homicidal as of late, that was actually a fairly common state of being in most of their childhood.</p><p>“Perhaps you are just that charming.” Chan suggested, turning back to his neglected milkshake. “You can be rather disarming when you put your mind to it.”</p><p>“Okay, Mr. Darcy, slow your roll.” She snorted. </p><p>“I’m literally just talking.”</p><p>“This is why everyone thinks you’re flirting with them.”</p><p>“Why does everyone think that?”</p><p>“You talk like you’re in a romance movie. Your dialogue literally just sounds like your quoting lines from a movie, except you’re not.” She said emphatically, waving a fry around as if to make a point. </p><p>“You’re no better.” He retorted. </p><p>“I do it with intention. Jihyo just isn’t used to getting positive feedback.” Sana corrected, “You don’t even try, you’re just naturally a Disney Prince.”</p><p>Chan’s ears burned red. “Please stop.”</p><p>Sana giggled, slapping his arm violently. </p><p>Then as their smiles dimmed, silence fell between them. </p><p>He’d said that he didn’t feel any animosity toward Sana for siding with Jihyo, he could never hate her. And he really didn’t. He still cared about her as much as he had for all the years before. But he couldn’t say that nothing between them had changed because the new fissure that had formed in their relationship was glaring in the silence. They could try to cover it up with inside jokes or reminiscing, but once the words fell dead, as they were bound to do, the crack would become visible again. </p><p>There wasn’t anything to be done, that he could do, to fix it, to put it back to the way that it had been for so long. It just was. </p><p>As much as he hated to admit it, it wasn’t alright. </p><p>But acknowledging that aloud would make it real, and neither one of them were brave enough to do that. </p><p>He cleared his throat. “You came here to tell me something.” </p><p>“Oh, right, yeah.” Sana laughed uncomfortably. “Jihyo wanted to tell you something…I don’t know, she said it was some evening the score thing, but she knew you wouldn’t come if it was her, so here I am. Said that if I mentioned LA, you’d know what she meant.”</p><p>Chan did know what Jihyo was referencing. He’d never taken her to be the sentimental type. In the over a decade that they’d known one another, she was never one to repay a favor. Their father had always said not to owe people favors, but to always cash in on the favors owed to you. Chan just never really cared to cash in the few favors she owed him, and she never brought it up again. </p><p>Until just then, apparently. </p><p>“A sudden change of heart?” He scoffed. “To my knowledge, she said that she didn’t owe me anything.”</p><p>“If you would let me finish, you’d understand why.” She said sternly.</p><p>Chan steadied himself. </p><p>‘Don’t shoot the messenger, Chan’ </p><p>He told himself silently, leaning back against his seat. </p><p>“We’ve got intel.” Sana continued. “Yeji and YoungK have formed an alliance.”</p><p>“An alliance?” </p><p>Sana nodded. “Since the beginning apparently. Before the will reading.” </p><p>The information took a couple seconds to absorb, as the implications of the new knowledge was run through calculations in his mind. </p><p>“Jihyo wants to ally with me.” Chan said with a disbelieving laugh as the conclusion dawned on him. “That’s why she sent you here. She doesn’t want to pay back a debt, this is a new strategy for her.”</p><p>“It’s either that or you ally with JB, but if you strike out on your own, you’re going to be wiped out quickly.”</p><p>That was a true statement, much to Chan’s chagrin. They had all been raised together, as much as they hated to admit it, they thought very similarly when it came to strategy and gaining an upper hand in a conflict. YoungK and Yeji had gone outside of that rulebook. That meant the rest of them would have to rework their own strategy to compensate, which would inevitably lead them all to the same conclusion: there were five of them, two alliances would take out the remaining group first, then the two would battle it out, after the dust settled the alliance would break and the winner would be decided. JB, Chan, and Jihyo would have to ensure they weren’t the odd one out. </p><p>“Why me?” Chan said. “JB’s got better contacts. She’d get a better advantage if she formed an alliance with him.”</p><p>“She trusts you more.” Sana said simply, as though it were so obvious it was painful. “JB and his associates do betrayal like it’s an unlimited resource. They stick together alright…somehow, but there’s too much in fighting and double crossing to make them a viable option.”</p><p>“Makes sense.” Chan said. “What are her terms?”</p><p>“An alliance of mutual shared resources and information, with the goal of eliminating the other three. After which, the partnership will be dissolved and you two battle it out.” Sana replied, playing with the straw in her empty milkshake mindlessly. “If you agree with the initial terms, Jihyo is willing to meet in person to discuss more in depth the details.”</p><p>It all seemed too easy. </p><p>And he couldn’t shake the feeling that Sana was waiting for something to happen. The slight uptick in her voice and cadence had not been lost on him. Nor were her glances at the clock and the door. Something was wrong. Enough to shake Sana, who didn’t take much in life as something to dedicate active concern to. </p><p>“If you need to get somewhere, don’t let me stop you.” </p><p>Sana’s gaze shot back, almost as if she hadn’t noticed she’d been doing it. </p><p>“I can think it over tonight and get back to you.” Chan said. “Unless there’s some reason we need to get this agreement done tonight.”</p><p>Sana gnawed at her bottom lip before leaning forward. </p><p>“Jihyo didn’t want me to tell you until you’d agreed, but I have to.” She said in a hushed voice. </p><p>She sounded scared. More so than Chan had ever heard. And that alone scared him. </p><p>“Mina got ambushed by a SM unit last week, barely got away in one piece. And there have been known YG affiliates staking out our operations. Hell, NCT has been trying to get through our firewall for months, even before JYP kicked the bucket.” She continued. “You and your family aren’t the only ones with your eyes on the top spot.”</p><p>“SM?”</p><p>SM was an older company. Had once been the best in the business, both its front and behind the scenes. A series of controversies and lawsuits had cost them over the years, leaving an opening for JYP to slip ahead. And JYP never gave up that lead. </p><p>The fact was that JYP Enterprises had managed to cultivate a better public perception. And that gave them the edge. People saw the CEO at charity events, with his well-groomed and well-mannered adopted children at his side. He would donate to non-profits. Attend weekly prayer meetings. He even guested on a variety show (which came in with favorable reviews). All the things a conservative general public could want from a billionaire. </p><p>The dynasty of Park Jinyoung was as close to celebrity as someone in the business world could get. Nobody could touch them. If someone tried, they were never successful. Even the staff loved working in the company that masked the darker parts of their enterprise. It was rated amongst the top ten places to work for ten years in a row.</p><p>Their father stressed above all that appearances were everything. Physical appearance. Expression. The way one carried themselves. How they behaved. How they treated others. That was more important than anything else in the business world. </p><p>Every business was cutthroat. Not too many were kind. </p><p>SM would need the benefit of the good JYP name in order to get the top spot back. </p><p>“Yeah,” She said soberly. “And YG. There’s rumors that the Dragon is back at the company.”</p><p>“Fuck.” Chan murmured under his breath. </p><p>The Dragon was YG’s single most profitable asset. He was the best, and everyone was aware of it. But even the best couldn’t save the company from the fruit of the bad dealings that the company sowed. Especially when he had disappeared for the past couple of years. </p><p>Still, his being back was not good news. Chan just wondered how he’d missed it.</p><p>He’d thought the news of Younghyun and Yeji’s alliance was bad…</p><p>That begged a question…well, a lot of questions. Who else knew this information? Would YG and SM ally themselves? And if the other three also knew the information, why didn’t all five of them pool their resources to deal with the outsider problem before settling their own differences? </p><p>Because that would be asking for compromise, and their family was notoriously stubborn. </p><p>Even allying with one person would be stretching the limits.  He doubted they’d be willing to go much further than that. </p><p>“That was part of why Jihyo wants to ally with you and your team.” Sana said. “We would stand a better chance if all five of you and your teams would join together, but seeing as that is unlikely to happen, and Jihyo trusts JB about as far as she could throw him, two is probably the best we’re both going to get.”</p><p>“Why not lead with that?” Chan said. </p><p>“Jihyo doesn’t like to share information with people who aren’t on her side.” </p><p>Fair enough. </p><p>“I-“</p><p>She was cut off by a phone ringing. </p><p>They both startled, nerves clearly badly frayed. </p><p>Sana pulled her phone out and answered it. </p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>She listened for a moment, her face going steadily paler. </p><p>A chill rippled down his spine, even without the context of what was happening on the other end of the line. </p><p>Chan felt the urge to reach for something. A weapon. His own phone. The comm set that was in his pocket. Something. </p><p>The look in the eyes of his friend was making him feel defenseless and there was nothing he could do to secure himself. To protect either of them. He hated feeling vulnerable, to not know, even for a few seconds, what he was trying to protect himself from.</p><p>Sana lowered her phone again. </p><p>“That was Momo. The rest of the team has been compromised.” Sana said, her voice shaking. </p><p>“So, they’re targeting Jihyo first.” Chan murmured, more to himself than to Sana. </p><p>It made him wonder again if SM and YG were pooling their resources. Or if whatever this was had come from inside the family.</p><p>“Is everyone alight?” Chan asked, his voice flipping from sympathetic friend to strategic advisor. </p><p>Sana didn’t answer. </p><p>“San, do you know if anyone is hurt or-“</p><p>He didn’t finish that thought, but the sharpness seemed to snap her out of her shock. </p><p>“Momo, Dahyun, and Tzuyu made it out for sure, they’re on the road right now, finding somewhere to lay low.” She said, balling up her hands into fists to steady herself. “They don’t know about everyone else.”</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“I don’t know yet.” Sana snapped. “She just said not to go back to the apartment.”  </p><p>Before Chan could think better he blurted, “Send them to my place. I’ll call ahead and make sure Jisung lets them up.”</p><p>He knew most of the girls on Jihyo’s team. He’d met them in passing over the years, mostly through delivering food for Sana. But he held no grudge against them as individuals and he was fairly sure most of them held no grudge against him. </p><p>“No, we should wait for Jihyo’s word.” Sana said, gnawing on her lip. “She’ll have a plan.”</p><p>“I’ll join up. Ally. Whatever. Just…” Chan sucked in a breath. “You’re my friend, and right now, your friends are in danger. By proxy it would make me a bad friend if I let anything happen to the people you care about and who also care about you.”</p><p>“We can fend for ourselves.”</p><p>“I know.” He replied. “But I’m offering my help. As a resource for you. You can’t think about fighting off an enemy when you’re worried about looking over your shoulder every second. I trust you to know what you need to do…I’m just offering what I can in order for you to do so.”</p><p>He met Sana’s eyes pleadingly.</p><p>Maybe it was selfish. He knew that he needed her more than she ever needed him, but he didn’t care. Sana was one of his only friends left in the world that hadn’t betrayed him or died yet, even if she was working with Jihyo. He couldn’t let her go up in smoke knowing he could have done something to douse the fire out. </p><p>“I’ll find Jihyo.” He said, throwing his last chip out on the table. “Please. I have my ways, if she’s out there, I can find her. Just stay safe.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” Sana asked, tipping her head slightly. </p><p>“Very.” </p><p>She grabbed her phone again. “I’ll send them the address.”</p><p>“I’ll call Jisung, make sure he gets the house ready for a few more guests.” Chan said, grabbing up his own phone, leaving the barely touched milkshake at the table. “The safe word is ‘Chronosaurous’.”</p><p>“What? That’s not a word.”</p><p>“It’s an inside joke.” Chan replied flippantly. “Just send them that way and we can meet them there.”</p><p>“Wait,” She said sharply, grabbing his arm as he stood up to make the call. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”</p><p>“It can wait until you’re all safe.” </p><p>She gnawed at her bottom lip skeptically. </p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>Sana strode off toward the counter, her phone already pressed to her ear. </p><p>He flipped to his contacts and pulling up Jisung’s number, walking over toward the opposite side of the shoppe. </p><p>The phone rang. Once.</p><p>Twice. </p><p>A third time. </p><p>‘Hey, this is Jisung…leave a message, I guess?’</p><p>That was weird. </p><p>Jisung always picked up. </p><p>Chan tried not to let the worry building up in his gut to overtake him too much, Jisung probably had his phone on silent, they were probably still at the event, but he couldn’t help it. Too much had happened in the past for him not to jump three steps straight to panic. </p><p>But, as he went to dial again, he didn’t even get the chance to panic. </p><p>Behind him, something clattered against the grimy tile of the ice cream shoppe, sliding across the floor until it bumped the leg of a chair a couple feet from where he stood. It was a pink phone. </p><p>The owner of which was collapsed on the ground just a few feet away. </p><p>He didn’t notice the irregularity of his own heartbeat, how heavily it thudded against his ribs, or that the weakness in his legs wasn’t just from fear.  </p><p>Drugged. He’d been drugged. Somehow…It had happened more than once, so he knew the feeling well.</p><p>He didn’t take time to think about the how or the why, he just stumbled into action, snatching her phone off of the floor and pressing it to his ear as he maneuvered Sana over onto her side, and checked her pulse and breathing, which were thankfully still fairly strong. </p><p>“Hello? You still there?” He said quickly, his entire body slow to reaction as he heaved himself to his feet again. </p><p>“Chan?” </p><p>“Yeah, Momo, it’s been a while. Um…I’m here, Sana’s collapsed, and I’m halfway there. Somebody put something in our drinks I think. Come pick us up, eh?” He laughed nervously. “I don’t trust myself to drive back to my place without passing out.”</p><p>“Address is in the GPS already. Give us five minutes.” Momo said, the sound of the car engine growing louder in the background. “Stay where you are.”</p><p>“Yeah.” He said, not really seeing much choice in the matter. “Okay.”</p><p>His legs and arms were starting to get heavy and his head pounded, the buzzing of the lights above him grating at his ear drums. It was doubtful he would make it much further than the door with the state of the drug in his system. </p><p>He let his body fall into the booth again. </p><p>The waitress and the kitchen staff were nowhere to be seen, which wasn’t a good thing. Either they’d dosed him, which meant the drug was either lethal or they were just lying in wait, or, if they were just poor minimum wage workers, they could call emergency services, and he couldn’t end up in the hospital essentially defenseless while he waited for them to pump whatever the hell drug this was out of his system. Neither option was optimal. </p><p>In the event that he had been made, he pulled the card out of his and Sana’s phone, a harder task when he was seeing triple and his hands were about as stable as his mental health. Which was to say, pretty fucking unstable. When both were out, he slid them between the vinyl cushions of the booth, not trusting his ability to snap them at the time being. </p><p>Through the kitchen he heard the sound of a door slamming shut and the telltale, familiar cadence of a gun being cocked. </p><p>Both sounds that meant they were truly and utterly fucked. </p><p>“Come on, Momo.” He muttered gritting his teeth, trying to stay conscious as his vision swam in front of him. </p><p>Hearing the click of heels against the tile, he let his eyes drop closed. He didn’t have many advantages in this situation but letting whoever it was believe him to be unconscious, was better than nothing. </p><p>“Seulgi, the door.” A sharp female voice said. “Yeri, make sure the place is clear.”</p><p>There were replies to the affirmative. </p><p>The pair of heels stopped in front of him.</p><p>He tried not to flinch as he felt two cold fingers press against his pulse. </p><p>“Still alive.” She said. </p><p>Chan couldn’t decide if she sounded disappointed or relieved. </p><p>“Wendy said there was an outgoing call.” Another voice said, from the location it was probably Seulgi. “Do you think they managed to call for help before they went out?”</p><p>“Probably.” The one beside him huffed. “If they were smart. Let’s just get them out of here before we figure out whether or not they did….”</p><p>He didn’t get much more out of the conversation as his brain fell under the influence of the drug and his consciousness was smothered in an inky black of its darker counter-part.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you again for reading...</p><p>I can't say how much I've appreciated the support that this story has gotten. I'm generally insecure about the things I write or create in general, so know that I'm really not exaggerating when I say that. </p><p>I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season, and I'll see you back here next week...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Sleeping Off A Bad Night and Waking Up to Some Bad News</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Chan wakes up with a headache and learns some not so good things</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Having been drugged and kidnapped (or had endured an attempt to do so) more than the average person, Chan was familiar with the concept of waking up after being dosed. He could usually down a gallon of water with the dry mouth he got and then promptly throw it all up thanks to the nausea. To tie it all up he would choke down more aspirin than a good doctor would ever recommend for the banger of a headache, and then crash in bed for the rest of the day. The whole sequence from waking up to crashing in bed again took about half an hour. Fifteen minutes if he was feeling particularly daring. Unless of course he woke up in a freezer chest buried under six feet of dirt (a regretfully personal experience that he hoped not to repeat), in which case he’d just go back to sleep, nothing one could really do when buried alive except try and conserve oxygen. </p><p>That being said, when he woke up to the sun stabbing him in the eyeballs, he had to skip the water and get straight to the toilet, barely making it and practically breaking his kneecaps on the floor of the bathroom before losing the acidy remains of what he’d had to eat…the night before?</p><p>Time was hard when his head felt as though it was being chiseled open and he could barely recall his own name without feeling as though he was dying. </p><p>He let out an audible groan as he doubled over again. </p><p>As he came back up for air, he was sure that his head was pounding loud enough to be heard through the wall, as it turned out, it was just his kids. </p><p>Not his kids. But at that point they might as well have been. </p><p>Minho and Changbin stopped in the doorway, blessedly blocking the light from the sun blazing in through the bay window.</p><p>“Well, I’ll be damned,” Minho huffed. “He lives.”</p><p>Chan winced. </p><p>“Water.” He managed, his mouth feeling as if it were molded out of sandpaper. </p><p>“Get some aspirin while you’re at it.” Minho said, patting Changbin on the shoulder.</p><p>“Some reason you can’t get it?” He asked, raising a brow.</p><p>“I’m older, and I don’t have a spleen.”</p><p>“That hasn’t inhibited your movement the last I checked.” </p><p>“Are you going to leave our poor leader like this? Do you have no heart Seo Changbin.” </p><p>“You’re a piece of shit Lee Minho.” Changbin said, but he still turned around to go fetch the water and aspirin. </p><p>“It’s a gift that I’m cursed with.” Minho said tragically with half a grin. </p><p>“Fuck you.”</p><p>Ow. </p><p>Chan curled up in the fetal position, letting out a pathetic sounding whine. </p><p>Dignity was for idiots. It wasn’t like the kids respected that much him anyhow. </p><p>“I’ve set up the guests in Felix and my room, he’ll board up with Seungmin, and I’ll sleep on the couch for now.” Minho informed him, leaning against the doorframe, his voice taking on a less pointed timbre. “Got them new sheets, some towels, and a change of clothes, which are mostly just sweats that I managed to scrounge up. If they’re done with the bathroom, they’re probably sleeping.”</p><p>Good. That was good. </p><p>“Sana?”</p><p>“Princess Bubblegum?” Minho asked. </p><p>Chan jerked his head to the affirmative. </p><p>“She’s fine. Was hugging the toilet for a while after she woke up, but her friends seem to have her all taken care of, so I just left them be.”</p><p>“And last night, how did it-“</p><p>“No, no, no.” Minho laughed, though it sounded a bit forced. “No, talking shop until you’re lucid, Channie.”</p><p>As if on cue, Chan’s stomach lurched and he was back to where he started, losing the contents of his stomach that he didn’t have. His throat and mouth burned as nothing but stomach acid came up. </p><p>God, he felt like shit. </p><p>Like the harkening of angels, blessedly he could hear Changbin return. </p><p>A few seconds later he downed the pills, swished some water around his mouth and was helped back to bed, where he promptly fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. </p><p>=============================== </p><p>When Chan woke up again, the sun was setting. </p><p>A whole day wasted, sleeping off a kidnapping attempt. </p><p>But at least his head didn’t hurt nearly as much, having dulled to a steady but largely ignorable throb in the back of his head. Which was nice. If he was going to waste a day, at least it wasn’t all for naught. </p><p>Over on his nightstand was a glass of water with a little note under it. Someone must have brought it in while he was asleep. Normally the idea of someone having entered and exited the room without his knowledge would have unnerved him, he didn’t like the idea of being defenseless and unaware, but as he saw the signature on the little note, he was less unnerved. A little bit less. </p><p>Though Felix could dismember someone with the same efficiency of a seasoned hunter would disembowel their kill, it was somehow inconceivable that Felix would ever harm him.</p><p>Chan slowly sat up and downed the entire glass in one go. </p><p>The dry mouth he got from that kind of thing was astounding, but it wasn’t as though he could talk to his doctors about that. </p><p>As he gathered the will to stand up, he read Felix’s note, written in carefully crafted Korean. </p><p>‘Hope you rested well. Family meeting when you wake up. Meet us in the living room. -Felix’</p><p>Living room it was. </p><p>Up we go. </p><p>He nearly passed out on the first go, and it took two more before he was up and the little dark spots had cleared from his vision. It was a slow and steady process to even get from the bed to the door. </p><p>As he entered the small hall that separated the living room and kitchen areas from the bedrooms, he was struck by just how quiet it was. Normally he would hear muffled swearing or the sound of something break, but at that moment, all he could hear was the steady rumble of the heat coming from the vents. It was weird to say the very least. Eerie if he were to be a little bit more generous. </p><p>Stepping out into the living area he was met with five sets of eyes. Chan took role in his head quickly. Minho sitting in his normal place perched on the arm of the couch like a cat, Changbin in the oversized chair, Felix sitting cross-legged on the rug, Seungmin sitting unusually close to Minho, and Jeongin sat beside Seungmin. One, two, three, four, five. Two were missing. Hyunjin and Jisung. The dour expressions and the tense air that hung thick in the room sealed the burgeoning feeling of anxiousness building up in his veins. </p><p>“Where’s Hyunjin and Jisung?” He asked, almost not wanting to know the answer. </p><p>Minho slid off the arm of the chair and walked over to Chan. </p><p>“You’re awake.” He said, looking Chan up and down as if checking to make sure that Chan wasn’t about to pass out again. “Seungmin said it was a fifty-fifty chance you’d never wake up and one of us would have to kiss you. He said he would do it, but I decided that I would make the sacrifice. Barf breath and all, because I just care for you that much.”</p><p>“I said nothing of the sort.” Seungmin interjected. </p><p>“He did.” Minho said in a stage whisper. </p><p>Chan resisted the urge to pretend to pass out again just to get out of that conversation. Instead, he repeated the question. </p><p>“Where are Hyunjin and Jisung?”</p><p>The smile slipped off of Minho’s lips. It was almost as though Chan were watching a mask fall away. </p><p>“Yeah, about that.” Minho said with a wry chuckle. “You might want to sit down.”</p><p>“Where are they?”</p><p>“They’re gone.” Seungmin said when Minho didn’t speak. </p><p>“I can see that, where are they?”</p><p>“We don’t know.” Jeongin said softly, his eyes not even daring to look up from his hands. “Something’s wrong with the comms. The tracking said that Hyunjin made it all the way to the car, but he never showed, and Jisung’s went on the fritz just before….”</p><p>Chan took a long breath. </p><p>He had to keep it together, no matter how much he wanted to shout and throw things, he couldn’t take his frustration and fear out on the kids. That much he had promised himself when this all started. Don’t hurt them again. There was time for frustration later, in private, hopefully after Hyunjin and Jisung were home again. </p><p>Instead of shouting, he stepped around Minho and braced his hands against the back of the couch, closing his eyes and counting up to ten and back down again before opening them. </p><p>“What have we done to find them?” He asked, his voice gravelly as he held back the myriad of emotions that he couldn’t even begin to describe. </p><p>“Jeongin’s been tinkering with the comms, trying to figure out what went wrong, and he’d been tracking down available surveillance in the areas we think they might have disappeared from.” Minho said. “Changbin’s been on the phone all morning with his contacts, trying to maybe get a lead. Seungmin’s called every hospital he can think of to see if maybe one of them was admitted.”</p><p>“And you?” Chan asked, the feral monster crawling up his throat for a moment looking for a target for it’s range and looking over at Minho. </p><p>“I’ve been keeping everyone fed and caffeinated, tending to the new guests we now have, and ensuring that you don’t choke on your own vomit while everyone else was busy.” Minho replied curtly. “You’re welcome by the way. “</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“I’m feeling very damn appreciated right now.” Minho huffed. “I might just implode from the sincerity.”</p><p>“But really,” Chan said, shoving whatever he was feeling back down. “Thanks for taking care of everything…for taking care of me.”</p><p>“No problem.” Minho said, those his ears were blushing a bright red. </p><p>“We should start with surveillance.” Chan said. “I-“</p><p>His juggling act was starting to crash down around him. The promises and obligations shattering as he tried to salvage the mess his life had become, while making sure those he’d dragged into this little circus never had to feel the sting of his mishandled shards on their skin. </p><p>Jisung and Hyunjin needed him. He’d promised Sana to track down Jihyo. The fucking detective was probably still lurking somewhere. And that wasn’t even thinking about how he was possibly going to deal with the treat of other powerful entities vying for the top spot, or how he could keep everyone alive or at the very least intact until the dust settled. If the dust settled. If he didn’t drop dead before the dust had a chance to settle.</p><p>There was no way he could do this. </p><p>He couldn’t do it. </p><p>Barely a month in, and he’d managed to lose two of his…they weren’t really collogues. A mistake he recognized now. They were people he trusted, and people he cared about. He’d brought them into this. It should have been obvious the hubris he had to have to think that he could protect everyone, to protect those he held close. That he would make all the sacrifices, and that those around him would never have to pay the price. </p><p>He wasn’t a leader. He was a narcissist, just like his father, with a staggering god-complex like King Midas. One that would be his end. And the end of everyone and everything he had ever touched. But for his father, as would poetically be for him, there were no gods to appeal to, no deity to which he could confess his sins when he started drowning in the golden fruit of his labor that had gone rotten.</p><p>“Chan?” Felix asked, his voice soft as though he were afraid something might break if he were too loud. </p><p>“I’m fine.” He said, a bit too harshly. </p><p>Liar. </p><p>But at that point, he could just add it to the pile and it would make no visible difference. </p><p>He could see Felix visibly wilt, and a pang erupted in his chest.</p><p>“You should go back to bed.” Seungmin said, rising from his seat. </p><p>“I said I’m fine.”</p><p>“And I said, you should go back to bed.” Seungmin said unyieldingly. “Whatever they dosed you with was nasty stuff, your friend is still pretty much bedridden.”</p><p>Oh, and that. </p><p>Whoever had tried to kidnap him. Just another little thing to add to his list. </p><p>“Sana.” Chan murmured. “I should go check on them.”</p><p>“Chan-“</p><p>He’d like to say his retreat from the living room was fully motivated by concern for his long-time friend, and that was most of it, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t at least a little bit motivated by a part of himself that just wanted to run and hide from the mess that he’d created. </p><p>As he walked away, he could hear Minho dealing out tasks and rallying the troops. </p><p>Like he should be doing. </p><p>Instead, he knocked on Felix and Minho’s usual room that was now functioning as an impromptu guest room. </p><p>The door cracked open and Chan saw one eyeball peer around the door. </p><p>“Oh, it’s you.” Momo said with a relieved sigh, opening the door fully to allow him access as she casually stowed her knife away in the sheath that sat at her hip. </p><p>“Were you planning on stabbing one of my kids?” He asked. </p><p>“It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.” Momo shrugged, flopping back in the fancy leather desk chair that seemed to have been parted from its aforementioned desk. </p><p>Looking around the room, Sana was passed out on the bed pushed against the farthest wall. Three duffels were piled in the corner and Chan, likely go bags that were kept on hand for emergencies, so it made sense that Sana wouldn’t have one. A girl, who must have been Tzuyu was sitting on the other bed, hair tied up in a towel with earbuds in, her expression stony, but that was understandable given what little he knew about the circumstances. Noticeably absent was Dahyun. </p><p>“Where’s-“</p><p>“Taking advantage of the hot water.” Momo supplied. </p><p>“Can you tell me what happened?” Chan asked. </p><p>“As in, when I saved your ass or before?”</p><p>“Both if possible. I don’t need details or anything too sensitive. I’d just like an idea of what has to be dealt with.”</p><p>She pursed her lips and looked over at Sana. </p><p>“Localized explosive was set off in the penthouse, tore through the upper two floors.” She said. “We were out on patrol, meeting with sources. Chaeyoung sent out the alert. So, she’s alive at the very least. Or was when she sent the message I’m not sure about everyone else.”</p><p>Chan nodded. </p><p>It was about as bad as he feared. </p><p>“Any idea who did it?” </p><p>“I have my suspicions, but nothing solid enough to speak of yet. Tzuyu is doing some digging. She’s not Chae, but she’s scrolling through some news reports and articles about it.” Momo said. “Checking the body count.”</p><p>That last part sat cold above them in the air for a moment. They were in limbo. No clue where five people were, or how to move forward. That kind of thing seemed to be going around.</p><p>“And when you saved my ass?” Chan prompted. </p><p>Momo smiled lightly. “It was SM’s Red Velvet unit. Five member crew. I’ve met them before on assignments. I came in the front, Tzuyu and Dahyun came in the back. Put a bullet in the maknae’s shoulder and they were quick to back down. I don’t think they really cared about this job too much if I’m honest.”</p><p>“What makes you say that?”</p><p>“Seulgi and Irene are two of SM’s most profitable assets, and they always finish a job and finish it well, no loose ends, but intel says RV’s been put on the backburner as of late in favor of a new super-unit that the boss has been putting together. Some NCT kids, a couple EXO operatives, and Lee Taemin.” Momo explained. </p><p>Chan whistled. </p><p>Any team with Lee Taemin in the mix was already a stacked line-up. </p><p>“Which hasn’t set well with them. Sources say they’re frustrated, but not yet willing or able to leave.”</p><p>“Sounds about right.” Chan scoffed. </p><p>“What happened around here?” Momo asked, tipping her head slightly. “Everyone seems almost more on edge than we are.”</p><p>“Two of ours went missing last night.” Chan said stiffly. “Don’t really have any leads on them yet.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Momo said gently. </p><p>“Yeah. I’m sorry about you too. Is Sana doing okay?”</p><p>“She’s just wrestling with some nausea and fatigue, but otherwise she’s in the clear.”</p><p>“Good.” Chan said. </p><p>At least there was something going well that day. </p><p>Little victories seemed to be the only victories he was bound to get in the near future. </p><p>The rustling of the bedsheets and blankets turned their attention toward the aforementioned Sana, who was sitting up painfully slowly, her pink hair a mess of bedhead and her face flushed from sleep. </p><p>“Sleep well, princess?” He asked. </p><p>“Speak softer.” She grumbled, rubbing her eyes with the oversized sleeves of the hoodie she had on. </p><p>He recognized that hoodie. Probably because it was his own. To anyone else it was just a normal black hoodie. But to him, it was distinct from others. Memory staining the threads. It was the hoodie he’d given to Jisung maybe four or five years ago, the fabric worn to perfect comfort, something he’d bought offhand at the airport to kill some time before that fateful flight to Malaysia. Even giving the hoodie to Jisung had been a thoughtless action. It had been a thoughtless as breathing, giving the hoodie to the skinny and traumatized kid that had been left to die. He didn’t realize how much that had impacted Jisung until he’d tried to wash the thing, the month or so that Jisung had stayed with him before the decision was made as to where he would go, since he was still a minor at the time. </p><p>In most cases regarding the death of the parents or abuse, the child would go to another relative, which was what happened the first time, so Jisung had been understandably concerned about being placed with family, but he also didn’t trust strangers either. At that point, Chan had been the only person that could really touch him without crossing some badly damaged psychological wires. From that point on, all the press photos from the court dates, Jisung was wearing that hoodie. </p><p>“Did Minho give that to you?” He asked, gesturing to the hoodie. </p><p>“Yeah, it was in the pile of clothes he dropped off for us.” She yawned. “That was the quiet one that couldn’t look anyone in the eye, right?”</p><p>That didn’t sound like Minho, more like Jeongin or Felix if he was honest.</p><p>“Did he have cat hair on his shirt?”</p><p>“Yeah, now that you mention it, why do you ask?” Sana asked.</p><p>“No reason. Just curious.” Chan said finally. </p><p>Jisung wouldn’t mind. He was that way. It was his form of taking care of someone, giving them something that had once given him comfort. He would drape that fuzzy blanket of his, the purple one with the yellow stars all over, on top of someone who’d fallen asleep on the couch. He play classical music over the speakers when tensions were high because that was what worked a charm to ease his stress. </p><p>“Everything alright, Channie?” She asked, blinking the sleep from her eyes and looking at him. </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Your eyebrows are doing that thing again.” She said, mirroring the expression on her own face. </p><p>Chan tailored his expression quickly. </p><p>“So, what’s up?” </p><p>There was no point in trying to avoid her question.</p><p>“I lost two of the kids.” Chan murmured. </p><p>Sana paused, pressing her lips together thoughtfully before patting the space on the bed beside her. “Sit.”</p><p>That was not a negotiable order.</p><p>Tzuyu looked up from what she was doing, lifting an elegant brow as she inspected the situation. But as Chan sat down beside Sana, apparently Tzuyu determined that the situation was nonthreatening and went back about her work.</p><p>As soon as he was settled, Sana wrapped him in a tight hug, pulling his head against her shoulder and tousling her fingers gently through his hair, as if somehow it was alright for him to fall apart in that moment because she might be able to keep all of the stray parts of himself together on her own. And maybe the combination of his friend’s embrace and the feeling of that hoodie against his cheek made him feel as though that he just might be able to keep it together. </p><p>“I meant to tell you something last night.” Sana said softly, leaning her head against his own. </p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“It was just info. But now I think it might be a lead. Something to help find your missing kids.”</p><p>That perked Chan’s interest. </p><p>“You’ve got a leak.” </p><p>That was like a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“A mole. A rat. Whatever you want to call it. Someone is betraying you.” She continued. “Selling you out.”</p><p>Chan felt his blood run cold. </p><p>“That’s how I knew you would be free last night.” She said. “Chae found an information broker. An untraceable shadow that seems to know the ins and outs of your operation. It was a premium price because it was coveted information to a small circle of wealth that would pay very well for it.”</p><p>No. No. No. </p><p>“Who had the information? What did the broker tell you?” Chan asked, pulling back from her.</p><p>“You were doing a job at the gallery. Times. Rendezvous point. Down to where your team would enter and exit the building. What route they would take. Even the fact that you weren’t going to be on the ground with them. Only things someone in your immediate circle could possibly know.” Sana said. “There were three buyers. Including our team, but Jihyo didn't want to waste resources on that. But there was no way of telling who else purchased it.”</p><p>She paused, gnawing at her bottom lip.</p><p>“Does that help?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A little bit early, but I have some family things tonight and tomorrow, and I didn't want to miss posting. Since it will be a new year when I post next, I'll say all my sappy end of the year things now. I have quite a bit of anxiety, so like I've said previously, I was rather nervous about posting this story, but the response has been so uplifting and has eased that fear tremendously. Thank you all for reading and supporting this fic, it really has meant a lot. </p><p>With that out of the way, have a good rest of the year, to those who celebrate have a Merry Christmas, and to everyone, see you in the new year.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Take Out Menus and A Card Game With the Enemy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which kidnapping is not at all like Jisung expected.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Jisung had been little, well, littler, back when his parents were still alive and his life was less bleak and more mundane, the rule was to not talk back to adults. They were older when they had him, probably on accident, they always told him that they hadn’t wanted to have kids since they’d lost their first child. Being older, they were even more old-fashioned, big fans of the ‘seen and not heard’ rule when it came to children with backdated ideas about raising children and the loving tenderness a child needed to grow into an adult without a backlog of emotional repression and psychological issues.</p><p>Them being older meant that his grandparents all bit the dust before he could remember them, so he was often left with an elderly neighbor when his parents would go to work, which was most days. She would dote on him, teach him how to read and let him draw at her counter after he’d finished doing whatever little assignment she’d given him for the afternoon, and while he did that she would slice up apples for him. To his small self, she was more of a parent than his own ever had been. </p><p>It was her that took him to his parent’s funeral. </p><p>Even though his parents had barely raised him, he still carried with him that advice, even if it would put him into a grave that would bury him even deeper than where his parent’s cold, rotting corpses laid. He listened to adults. He never talked back to them. </p><p>He did as he was told. </p><p>And people could smell that on him from a mile away from a young age. </p><p>That’s why the old woman died in her home instead of jail cell. </p><p>That’s why no one found him for five years. </p><p>That was why he stayed in that fucking foster home for as long as he did. </p><p>Until he finally snapped. </p><p>It was funny that just a little bit of neglect was the thing that did it for him. </p><p>But the programing was still there. He liked to play pretend that he was some rebellious kid, one who scorned authority with a permanent middle finger up to the world, reprograming the sirens on police vehicles and running from the law, but the truth was that he was still scared of authority. The cops had only let him go that night weeks ago because he had had a full on panic attack when he was pinned to the ground and they called an ambulance because they thought he was dying. </p><p>All that to say, he was the most ideal kidnapping victim a person devoid of morals could hope for. He’d literally been training for this since the day he was born. </p><p>For all he’d been through in his life, for all the squares he checked off for the Losing at Life BINGO, he’d never actually been properly, Hollywood blockbuster, kidnapped. He’d expected it to be a lot more exciting, if he was being honest. He had expected a lot more…gratuitous violence. </p><p>But there he was, sitting at a dining room table looking at a take-out menu. </p><p>“See anything you like, kiddo?” </p><p>One of YoungK’s associates sat beside him, phone at the ready, while Jisung perused the menu. </p><p>He hadn’t been in the car but was put in charge of babysitting while YoungK finished some other business related things with the rest of the crew. For being in cohorts with someone compared to the devil, this one didn’t really look the part. In fact, he look more the part of a weary college student than a cold-blooded killer.</p><p>“Do I have a cost limit?” Jisung asked quietly, his voice having not yet gained the courage to get any louder. </p><p>“Well, I’m the oldest, so I say, do what you want. I couldn’t care less.” He said flippantly, pushing his wire-frames back up from the edge of his nose. “Just make it quick, I’m starving and want to beat the dinner rush.”</p><p>“Okay, I’ll take the #4 meal.” He said, passing the menu back across the table.</p><p>If he wasn’t going to have to pay, he might as well get the second most expensive order on the menu. </p><p>The man clapped his hands loudly, startling Jisung’s entire nervous system, that was already badly frayed, to the core. “Excellent. Good choice.”</p><p>He pushed the order into the app and waited for the total and wait time to pop up. </p><p>“Should be here in about half an hour.” He announced. “You want some water or something while we wait?”</p><p>Jisung shrugged. </p><p>“Whatever.” The man said, pushing himself up, his chair scraping across the wood floors. “Do you speak English by any chance?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Great.” He said, pulling a thick folder from his backpack. “Since you’re not doing anything, mind putting some eyes to my final paper? Just see if it makes sense. I’m not looking for a good grade, just a passing one. And I wouldn’t expect you to know anything about political science anyhow.”</p><p>He dropped the folder in front of Jisung. It sounded just as heavy as it looked. </p><p>“And a pen.” The man said, sliding it over. “I’ll get that water for you.”</p><p>Yeah, this was definitely not what he’d been expecting when he’d been dragged into a car against his will. Probably better than having his kneecaps smashed in. </p><p>Maybe. </p><p>He flipped through the paper. Jumping over the technical stuff, he could understand most of what was being said, though it seemed his second language seemed to be taking a while to fully reboot. Perhaps that was the residual terror of being kidnapped. Altogether it wasn’t a horrible read. But perhaps that was due to the fact that he was reading someone’s final paper and wasn’t being tortured that made the paper bearable. </p><p>“I did not spend ten years of my life in university, breaking my back for tuition and taking exams to become a babysitter!” The man exclaimed, probably on the phone. “You make it nearly impossible to turn my head to this mess when you tell me to order it a pizza. I said I didn’t want culpability in this thing. Kind of hard to deny knowledge when it’s sitting at our kitchen table looking at me with freaking puppy dog eyes while I’m trying to get stuff done.”</p><p>Jisung put down the pen, hearing the exasperated sigh from the next room over, followed by a lengthy bit of aggravated muttering. </p><p>“Use Google or something to find information, Brian, like the rest of us.” A few beats later. “Naver, whatever, we don’t live in the dark ages anymore. This kid looks about as dangerous as a squirrel, and about as useful as one too. Finals are next week and I’ve gotten about fifteen minutes of uninterrupted study time total this week.” </p><p>An angry slam of a refrigerator door. </p><p>“I only agreed to this because I needed help with rent. I didn’t think I was marrying into a family of complete and utter insanity.” He continued in the same tone. “You know, this is why I will always respect Sungjin more than you.”</p><p>Angry slam of something on the counter and a guttural groan.</p><p>“First, if I have to deal with your crap nine days a week than I can call you whatever name I please and, second, for all I have to put up with, we might as well be married, and third, Sungjin is in charge because he’s the only one around here that knows what they’re doing.” The man snapped back at whatever was said over the phone. “And if I have to throw out another half-empty water bottle that’s been sitting out on the counter for a week, I’m going to make everyone in this house go so sustainable that the Jolly Green Giant and the freaking green M&amp;M will have to sue us for being so green because we’d be infringing on their image rights.”</p><p>The faucet turned on and running water distorted any mumbled retorts. </p><p>“I sound tired because I am tired. I haven’t slept in three days.”</p><p>Faucet turned off. </p><p>“Yes, I would love a coffee. Thank you. See you later. Bye.”</p><p>The man returned just a few seconds later with a cup of water and a candy bar. </p><p>“To tide you over.” He said, tossing the candy to Jisung and setting the water down in front of him. </p><p>Jisung hesitantly peeled back the wrapper. </p><p>Say what you will about eating food from your enemy’s hand, but Jisung was starving and he had experience to tell him not to turn down food when it was offered to him. Besides the enemy was also willing to pay for his meal, who was he to turn it down. </p><p>The man took a seat in the chair he’d occupied previously, leaning it back against the wall and propping his feet up on the table. </p><p>“So? What do we think?”</p><p>“It’s readable.” Jisung said. </p><p>“That’s the goal.” He said. “I’m Jae by the way.” </p><p>“Jisung.”</p><p>“I’m aware.” Jae said, flubbing his lips with clear boredom. “Food’s going to be twenty minutes or so. You aren’t going to wither away to nothing are you?”</p><p>“I think I’ll live.”</p><p>“Perfect.” </p><p>The minutes ticked by while Jisung slowly continued flipping through the stack of papers, marking a few notes in the margins. By the end he felt as though he had a degree in political science himself. </p><p>“I’m a bit rusty, but I made some notes.” He said, sliding the folder over to Jae. </p><p>Jae paged through the paper, nodding as he read Jisung’s sloppy handwritten notes. </p><p>“No, it’s good. You seem to have the mind for this type of thing.” Jae said. “Reminds me of when Brian would read over my stuff. Would wax poetic about his thoughts about my political theory thesis. Of course he’s way too busy for that now.”</p><p>YoungK, the cryptid monster in the dark, would edit his friend’s political theory paper. Sure, why not?</p><p>“Where did you learn to speak?” Jae asked, pulling a snack sized bag of chips from the pocket of his sweatshirt and ripping it open. “If you don’t mind.”</p><p>“I…um…I lived in Malaysia and went to an international school there for a while.” He said, looking down at his hands. </p><p>It was true enough, and more honest than he was with most people. When he’d first gone over, he’d been enrolled in school, uniform and everything, still stinking of vulnerability. </p><p>Easy target. </p><p>His cousin, who was seven years older, had helped him study English at night after school, having him practice speaking via webcam with people who were native speakers, who would shower him with compliments about how well he was doing and give him new vocabulary. His cousin would tell him that if he worked really hard on learning English, he could surprise his Aunt and Uncle and make them proud. But he couldn’t say anything about it until he was really good. Of course that worked. He’d never really had parental figures that would show any amount of pride about him. It was a seductive motive to say the least. </p><p>That had gone well. </p><p>Another play at his obedience and innocence that he could only see in hindsight. Sugary sweet manipulation. </p><p>“So, that’s what your accent is. I knew it seemed different than Brian’s.” Jae said through a mouthful of food. “Thanks for reading through that for me.”</p><p>“Not like I could do much else.” Jisung muttered. </p><p>Oh, the sarcasm was coming back. </p><p>“Fair enough.” Jae said. “You want to play cards or something while we wait for the food? I might just die of boredom if I don’t do something. I have UNO.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>And that was how he ended up playing UNO with his kidnapper’s associate while waiting for their food to arrive.  </p><p>“UNO.” Jisung said, setting down a plus four. </p><p>“How? Three games in a row.” Jae muttered, picking up four cards from the pile. “Aha, take that, you pick up four.”</p><p>Jisung quietly laid down his own second plus four to the pile. </p><p>“I’m out.”</p><p>“You have to be cheating. There is no way that you’re just that good at a game that’s mostly chance.”</p><p>Jisung shrugged, pulling together the pile for his deal. </p><p>Jae’s phone buzzed on the table.</p><p>He picked it up lazily to look at what had been sent.</p><p> “Food’s here.”</p><p>Jisung looked up from the pile, unsure of what he was supposed to do with that information. He wasn’t tied up or anything, so it would seem unlikely that Jae would leave him alone in the apartment. Jisung would escape given the opportunity, the promise of food or not. But he doubted that a kidnapper would want him to leave the apartment and risk him being seen. </p><p>“I’ll just ask if Minji will bring it up for me.” Jae said, sliding over to messages and sending a quick text. “She’ll be out of work by now, so, she might be willing.”</p><p>A couple seconds later, Jae pumped his fist. </p><p>“’You are the best’.” He muttered to himself as he typed it out. “She’ll bring it up. Want to play another round?”</p><p>Jisung nodded and dealt out the cards. </p><p>The game went on, taking Jisung’s mind off of whatever he might ordinarily have been worrying about in the current situation. Just watching the rhythmic procession of cards being drawn and set down and passed around. It was soothing. Something to balance out the imbalance that this whole night had brought about in his psyche. </p><p>By the time the knock on the door startled him out of his skin, he had almost forgotten about the person who was coming up with the food. </p><p>Jae stood up and went to open the door, leaving his phone on the table. Unlocked. </p><p>While Jae and Minji talked for a bit, Jisung grabbed the phone before he could think better of it. He typed in Chan’s number quickly and typed out the message: not hurt, YoungK, don’t respond. He hit send. </p><p>'Message unable to send' </p><p>He tried again. </p><p>'Number may no longer be in service'</p><p>Fuck. Chan must have ditched his phone. Perfect fucking timing.</p><p>“Alright, I’ll see you around. Maybe we could meet up for a bite to eat sometime with the others?” </p><p>“I’m swamped right now, but I’m free in a couple weeks.” Jae replied.</p><p>“Sounds good. Just shoot me a text when you can.”</p><p>There was no time to try anyone else, the conversation had ended and the door had closed, so Jisung deleted the conversation and slid the phone back into place, his heart pounding like mad as Jae came back into the dining room with a couple take-out bags. </p><p>As Jae unloaded the food, and the bounty of sauces, he looked over at Jisung skeptically. </p><p>“Do you want to change out of the James Bond suit?” He asked. “I wouldn’t want to ruin that.”</p><p>When Jisung didn’t answer, Jae heaved a weary sigh. </p><p>“Up, we’re finding you a change of clothes.” He said. “Up, up, up. Let’s go, before the food gets cold.”</p><p>So, bewildered and majorly confused, Jisung stood up and let himself be ushered further into the apartment. It was unnerving how small he felt, how small he was next to Jae. He didn’t like it. He much preferred when they were both sitting down.</p><p>He ended up in a bedroom that was just left of neat. The bed was made, but was lumpy and wrinkled, there were no clothes on the floor, but the sleeve of a shirt hung out of the dresser drawer, there was no garbage left around, but the smell of old food hung in the air. Everything was just a little bit off. </p><p>“You are miniscule.” Jae commented, seemingly mostly to himself. </p><p>Okay, Jisung knew he was a little shorter than average and he weighed about the same as an elementary schooler, but he still didn’t care for people commenting on it. Malnourishment and a constant state of fear certainly hadn’t done any favors for the genetics he’d been given.</p><p>“I make fun of Wonpil for being the shortest, but you’d probably drown in his clothes.” </p><p>In the end, he was given a pair of baggy sweatpants and an oversized tee-shirt. </p><p>Jae stood in the doorway with his back to Jisung while he got changed. </p><p>They fit the way most of Jisung’s clothes fit. The short sleeves hung down to his elbows and he had to roll the sweatpants up so he wouldn’t trip over them. They were comfortable. Loose. He liked his clothes to be a bit big. Maybe he just didn’t like the feeling of being restrained. </p><p>“Okay.” He said when he’d finished folding his old clothes over his arm. </p><p>They went back to the table to eat the food that had been ordered. </p><p>The meal was a lukewarm, but it was still good. He wouldn’t have cared if it was stone cold, food was food. Jisung finished his off in fifteen minutes, licking his fingers and finishing up his water with one gulp. </p><p>Jae watched him with a look of amusement. </p><p>“Where does that all go?” He asked. </p><p>Jisung shrugged. </p><p>“It’s incredible.” Jae said, shaking his head as he started on his next piece of chicken. “You should put that on job applications.”</p><p>“What job am I applying for that would need that as a special skill?”</p><p>“I don’t know. Poison tester?”</p><p>“For whom?”</p><p>“I don’t know, I’m just throwing out some ideas. This is your potential employment. Am I supposed to figure everything out for you?” Jae asked defensively. “Take some initiative, kid.”</p><p> Jisung rolled his eyes. </p><p>“I-“</p><p>Jae started to speak, but his phone rang before he could finish. </p><p>He picked it up and listened for a moment before setting it down on the table. </p><p>“He’s on his way up. And he wants to talk to you.”</p><p>There was no need to ask who ‘he’ was. The shiver had gone down Jisung’s spine without a name. The delicately made wall between himself and the fear all that night was suddenly and so very easily knocked down as if it were never there at all. </p><p>He was scared. And there was nothing he could do to steady himself.  </p><p>Jae wasn’t his friend. That was just a necessary illusion to keep him from falling apart altogether. There was no way a plea to him would save Jisung from whatever came next.  </p><p>More than anything else, it was the fear that came with the not knowing that was the worst. He’d heard stories about YoungK. The man with the devil inside him. Merciless as his master. A sadistic butcher who would slit your throat for fun after torturing you like a cat playing with a mouse. Or the methodless madman, who would decide on a whim, what color shirt you wore or if you styled your hair in a way he liked, whether you would live or die, whether he would converse civilly or beat you bloody. He was less predictable than the flip of a coin. </p><p>Call him old-fashioned, but Jisung liked to know whether or not someone was going to kill him. Or maim him. Or cause him substantial amounts of bodily harm. He’d had way too many hands wrapped around his throat and close encounters with the other side that he knew that about himself at that point. Give him time to mentally prepare, however, and he could take on physical trauma like a champ.</p><p>He much preferred if his psychopaths weren’t sugarcoated. </p><p>But what he preferred and what he was given were rarely in synch with one another. </p><p>All there was to do was brace for the worst and hope it was over quickly.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Happy New Year everyone. Hope you enjoyed this installment.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Not-Quite Interrogations and a Field Trip to the Hospital</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jisung has a conversation and rides a motorcycle</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the light, Young K looked a lot less intimidating than Jisung had originally thought. Less blood-sucking demon and more, some guy that one might bump into on the street in the middle of the day. It was actually almost surprising to him that Young K didn’t have fangs and claws from the stories Jisung had heard about him. He supposed, however, that looking human didn’t necessarily mean that he was out of the way of danger, not by a long shot. Jisung had known many monsters that wore human faces, and they could still drain the life and soul from another person without the horrendous features. Looking human didn’t guarantee humanity. </p><p>Still, for being a monster, even a human looking one, he certainly wasn’t acting much like one. </p><p>This ‘talk’ was playing out more like a strangely invasive job interview than an interrogation. </p><p>“So, Han Jisung.” Young K- Younghyun?- Brian?- whatever he was supposed to be called said, having sat down opposite of Jae and right next to Jisung at the table. “How has Jae been treating you? I see he fed you like I asked.”</p><p>Jae shot YoungK a glare from across the table which Young K fully ignored. </p><p>The other three members of the group had retreated back to their rooms, one even saying ‘hi’ to Jisung as he passed, one carrying a drink from Starbucks, not looking remotely put off by the stranger at their table that they had aided in abducting just hours prior. He could now hear some muffled music blasting from somewhere deeper into the apartment and the slight thunder of a shower running elsewhere. Everything just seemed so aggressively normal. It was even harder to believe that there was someone being held against their will there. </p><p>Hard to believe that he himself was the one being held there, like maybe he was overreacting and could have just walked out this entire time. </p><p>“It’s good. We played UNO.” Jisung said awkwardly, shifting in his chair. </p><p>“Kept you entertained then. Also got you a change of clothes. That’s good.” Young K said as if checking off of a laundry list. “You’re not thirsty? Did you get a chance to shower?”</p><p>“I’m not thirsty, and I don’t really need to shower.” </p><p>Young K hummed. “So he didn’t offer, I take it.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Okay, well as soon as Wonpil’s out, you can jump in there. In the meantime, let’s just have a little chat.”</p><p>There it was. </p><p>“How old are you?”</p><p>“I’m twenty.” Jisung replied. </p><p>“I would ask about your life, I normally do with others I have these little chats with, but there is already so much publicly available about you. Makes this all a lot more streamlined.” Young K said. “It’s not all the time that my guests have their own Wiki page dedicated to them.”</p><p>Jisung was painfully aware of his page’s existence, how very public his history was to those who cared to look at it. The photo that never updated. Every gory little detail that the public was ever privy to. The only blessing was that most of the trial dates he had to attend had been before the ruling about the allowance of broadcasting of high-profile trials. Even despite that, he still had to live with the knowledge that the tapes played in court and ones that hadn’t been still floated around the dark corners of the internet, anyone with enough motivation would be able to find them with a little work. </p><p>“Yo, you have a Wikipedia page?” Jae asked disbelievingly. “What, were you a child star or something?”</p><p>A star. Jisung could almost laugh at the cruel irony of that statement. In certain circles, sure he was well loved, though the definition of the word loved was massively distorted. There were people who saw him like that, just not desirable ones. </p><p>“You were studying in the states when everything went down.” Young K said, his voice chilling ever so slightly. “But…yeah, there was a bit of a commotion.”</p><p>Jisung could feel the tremors building up beneath his skin, and his brain itched for a cigarette. Something to make it stop. </p><p>“What went down?” Jae asked, clearly confused, kicking his feet down from the table. “I get the feeling we’re not talking about a starring role in a local commercial. Are we?”</p><p>“I’m sure you could do your own research. Look it up. Weren’t you the one that said we live in the age of the internet ” Young K said, raising his brows in a clear challenge. “Let’s just say everyone owes a debt of pain to the world, and some people pay it off early. There’s no need to remind people of what they already went through by making them say it…or hear about it again.”</p><p>That was the end of that conversation. </p><p>Jisung kicked his feet just above the floor, the tension in the room and the excess anxiousness nearly exploding out of every pore. </p><p>“I’ll make this simple.” Young K said, turning his attention back to Jisung. “I’m not going to tie you to a chair and slice you up until you tell me something useful. I have the information I need without you giving me what would probably be bad intel.”</p><p>That was almost offensive. He could give good intel. </p><p>But not getting tortured was a relief. Though that wasn’t something he would thank them for. </p><p>“My brother is the type to lose an arm and a leg for a stranger, but I’m sure you know that. He stays alive for you, to protect you, to keep you safe. You’re pretty much the only thing that my brother would actually die for without hesitation.” Young K continued, leaning across the table into Jisung’s space. “So, you’re our insurance policy as it were. We won’t do anything to you unless you try something. Or Channie tries something, but he won’t. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will, so don’t make me, okay?”</p><p>There it was. There was the bite, the intimidation, Jisung had been anticipating. The famed Young K who would eat the hearts of his enemies was in those syllables, making a brief appearance to make sure Jisung knew his place. </p><p>This all meant that if he were to be caught pulling something like stealing Jae’s phone, like earlier, it wouldn’t be taken lightly. </p><p>“Jae, would you mind leaving us alone to talk privately?”</p><p>“I’m gone already.” He said, gathering his drink and other belongings and standing up. “If Brian tries to kill you, just shout, someone will pull him off of you, and Sungjin will probably be able to stitch you up.”</p><p>Jae patted Jisung roughly on the shoulder. </p><p>“If you need me, I will be wearing my noise cancelling headphones and ignoring you.”</p><p>Young K rolled his eyes at Jae’s retreating back. </p><p>This seemed to be a usual thing that happened around there. </p><p>“Sorry about him. He’s American.”</p><p>“It’s okay?” </p><p>Young K snorted with laughter. “Loosen up, kid, I’m not going to kill you. I meant what I said about debts of pain. You’ve done your time.”</p><p>That was a relief. Not dead, but brutally maimed if Jisung stepped out of line was still on the table. </p><p>“And despite what you may think, I don’t hurt people who don’t deserve it.” </p><p>“But you’re going to hurt Chan.” Jisung said quietly before he could bite the words back. </p><p>“You think I want to hurt my family?” Young K snapped, sending a jolt through Jisung’s body. “We may not get along, but I don’t want to. If it were up to me I’d just let Jihyo take over and I’d just be on my way, but we don’t get to do that. Fucking Father of the Year ensured that.”</p><p>He sounded tired. Resigned to his fate. </p><p>“He wanted you to kill each other?” </p><p>Jisung was well aware of how toxic the environment in Chan’s childhood home had been from the few anecdotes that Chan was willing to share. It painted a clear enough picture. And Jisung knew enough about fucked up families to know the lengths that even family would be willing to travel across the line of moral decency. </p><p>“It was survival of the fittest growing up. Only one person would inherit the business, and there could be no rivals.” Young K sighed, dragging his hands down his face. “You paid your debt; I’m still paying mine. I’m going to be for a long time. Probably deserve to.” </p><p>Well, this was uncomfortable. </p><p>He didn’t deal with emotions, especially those that belonged to others, very well. </p><p>“You deserve to?”</p><p>“You don’t talk about yours and I don’t talk about mine. It’s a nice arrangement and it suits me just fine, kid.” He laughed mirthlessly. “If all goes well, you’ll be out of here in a day or two.”</p><p>And if it didn’t? </p><p>He couldn’t allow himself to think about the other possibilities.</p><p>“Now, I heard you were good at UNO.” Young K said, drumming the table with his hands. “While we wait for the shower to be open, we can see if you’re actually good or if you were just playing against Jae.”</p><p>Definitely not what Jisung had been expecting. But who was he to complain. </p><p>They went back and forth on who won as the time ticked away. While they played, Jisung could almost forget that he was in a bad situation. They could talk like casual acquaintances. Nothing deep. Nothing soul-binding. Just a civil, meaningless conversation. </p><p>“And that’s it, I’m out.” Young K said, gathering up the cards and pushing them back into a piled. “That would tie us up. Three for you, three for me. Wonpil should be out by now if you want to shower.”</p><p>As surprisingly comfortable as this situation was, Jisung still didn’t like the idea of being that vulnerable in a place full of practical strangers. </p><p>“I’m okay.”</p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>Jisung nodded. </p><p>“Alright, well, I suppose you’ll have to have somewhere to sleep, so you’ll be rooming with me.” Young K mused, putting the cards back in their box. </p><p>It was doubtful that Jisung would get any sleep that night. He had very specific qualifications that he needed to be able to actually rest, almost none of which were in that apartment at the moment. And being alone in room with Young K was already pressing against his nerves enough as it was without the thought of being unconscious and fully vulnerable. </p><p>And there was no way in hell that they would give him a knife to keep under his pillow. That was for damn sure. </p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>But it turned out that neither one of them would get to bed that evening.</p><p>Young K’s phone buzzed in his pants pocket, which seemed to confuse him. Perhaps he wasn’t the type to get calls past midnight. Or getting calls at all when he wasn’t otherwise expecting it. </p><p>“Hello?” He said carefully. “Yes, this is Kang Younghyun. Who is this?”</p><p>His expression was neutral as he listened to what was being said on the other end of the line. But his fingers were fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeve. </p><p>“Yes, I am the emergency contact. Yes.”</p><p>Emergency contact. Who would have him as an emergency contact, aside from maybe the four others that lived under this roof? </p><p>“I’ll be there shortly.” Young K said. “And I’ll be sure to contact anyone else who should know.”</p><p>He hung up and slipped the phone in his pocket. </p><p>After a long sigh, he stood up and pushed his chair in. </p><p>“Change of plans, we’re going to go on a little field trip.”</p><p>Before Jisung could even process what that could possibly entail, a black mask and a beanie the same color was thrown at his face. </p><p>“Nobody’s awake to watch you and I don’t want to deal with waking them- sleep like fucking rocks- so you get to come with me, now put those on.” He said, gesturing blindly with one hand toward the objects he’d just thrown. </p><p>So, that was what Jisung did. </p><p>It was oddly comforting to have a beanie pulled low over his forehead, even as Young K dragged him out the door by his sleeve. It was like he was wearing a sort of paper armor. It would do nothing to protect him from harm in actuality, but the effect from having had it was enough to make him feel like he was safer than he actually was. Just like the lose clothing made him feel freer than he actually was. Most of his ability to be okay on any given was based solely on those illusions and placebos. Even if he knew deep down that he was just as vulnerable and defenseless as he had been before. </p><p>A too-big coat had been pulled over his shoulders as they stepped into the elevator to go down to the garage level. </p><p>“You don’t talk to anyone.” Young K said, already pulling out his keys as the elevator churned and groaned its way down. “And if anyone asks who you are, you say you’re my younger brother. Got it?”</p><p>Jisung nodded. </p><p>“Good.” </p><p>The doors opened to a gust of wind billowing through the parking garage. </p><p>Jisung grabbed the insides of the coat to keep it from blowing off of his shoulders, while he attempted to maneuver his arms into the sleeves. </p><p>Like a cat with their newborn kitten, Jisung was steered by the back of his neck through the garage until they stopped in front of a very shiny, very expensive looking motorcycle. </p><p>Young K pulled a helmet out of seemingly nowhere and pressed it into Jisung’s chest. </p><p>“Don’t fall off.” He said, swinging his own leg over and starting the machine up. </p><p>Taking that to mean, ‘put the helmet on and hold on tight’, Jisung fumbled his way into doing just that. He supposed that he could try running, but with Young K on a motorcycle, he wasn’t liable to get far, additionally, he didn’t know where he was and he didn’t have any money or a card on him to hail a taxi to get him to somewhere he did know. So that idea left as quickly as it had come into his mind. He was one for controlled spontaneity, in situations that had no life-ending threat levels. </p><p>Jisung climbed on behind Young K. </p><p>“You’re going to have to hold on to me, kid, unless you are particularly fond of the taste of asphalt.” Young K said over his shoulder.</p><p>Oh. </p><p>It was either physical touch or possible broken bones, which was a harder choice than it probably was for most people. But knowing Chan, he would probably go ballistic with worry if Jisung returned with even a bruise that hadn’t been from his own clumsiness (and even if it were from his of his own clumsiness). That was the last thing Chan needed at that time, more worry. He thought back briefly to what that person had said weeks ago in the waffle place, about looking after Chan. </p><p>Perhaps it was a tad dramatic but wrapping his arms around Young K’s torso felt like a sacrifice, as his nerves buzzed on the brink of overload. He could barely hear the rev of the engine and barely noticed them pulling out of the garage onto the chilly streets of Seoul. His ears were ringing and his brain was so unbearable, that he had to take to counting up to one hundred and back down again to try and get his mind off of his body that felt seconds from an explosion.</p><p>At least the overwhelming feelings coursing through him took his mind off of the fact that his fingers had gone numb. It was the small things sometimes. </p><p>He wasn’t sure how many counts up and down from one hundred he went through before Young K screeched to a stop in front of a massive building, the modest emergency room sign that hung beneath the covered walk-way above lit up with no sense urgency.</p><p>Why were they at a hospital? Was it a friend? A partner? A secret child?</p><p>Who would have Kang Younghyun down as their emergency contact?</p><p>There was no time to ponder that, the harried anxiety pooled off of Young K like a tidal wave. </p><p>Young K flipped down the kickstand and stood up, urgently helping Jisung out of the helmet. </p><p>As soon as it was stowed away, he grabbed Jisung’s arm and pulled him toward the doors, while Jisung attempted to fix the beanie and mask into place.</p><p>They pushed through the doors at an alarming speed, almost swept away upon entering by the tide of people. A tide of voices, all turbulently rolling together and crashing against the walls and ceilings of the confined entrance. People shouted, people were crying, people were…everywhere. Filling the space like a liquid molecules filling up every speck of space, and Jisung felt like he was drowning. Like he couldn’t breathe. </p><p>“Come on, this way.” </p><p>Young K elbowed his way through the crowd over to the desk. </p><p>A frazzled young woman manning the front desk looked up at his arrival. </p><p>“No visitors right now. You’ll have to wait.” She said dismissively as the phone on the table blinked rapidly on all lines, if it was ringing it couldn’t be heard above the chatter. </p><p>“Please, my little brother gets overwhelmed in crowded spaces, and our sister is here.” Young K said, doing a good job at sounding like a concerned older brother. “Is there some place a little less busy where we can sit and wait.”</p><p>It took a couple minutes for Jisung to realize he was supposed to be the little brother in question. He probably didn’t need to act to look overwhelmed. </p><p>The woman sighed. </p><p>“There’s a private waiting room just down the hall. You can wait there for now. But we might need you to move eventually.” The woman said, tuning over her shoulder to another staff member. “Take these two to the private waiting room. I’m going to need help with crowd control, so be quick.”</p><p>“Thank you so much.” Young K said, guiding over to the woman’s co-worker. </p><p>They were led down a stretch of hall, the commotion growing smaller the further they pulled away from it, until they landed in front of a nondescript looking door. </p><p>The man pulled out a set of keys and unlocked it, letting the door swing into the small private room. It smelled of old carpet, spilled coffee, and the distinct scent of hospital ventilation. The windows were sealed shut by the blinds that hung there keeping the late night luminescence from the street lights and shop signs out. There were a couple plastic chairs and plastic plants, some kids toys in the corner, magazines that were probably out of date scattered on a small table, lights that only half worked, and an ancient vending machine buzzing at an anxiety inducing frequency. </p><p>The clock on the wall said it was fifteen minutes past one.</p><p>“Here you are.” The man said. “Tell me your name and the patient you’re here for and we’ll get everything to you when it’s needed and available.”</p><p>“Kang Younghyun.” Young K answered briskly. “Here for Park Jihyo. She was brought in earlier tonight from the apartment building bombing. I’m her brother and I’m down as her emergency contact.”</p><p>Oh. </p><p>That caught Jisung off guard, though maybe he should have connected that to the aforementioned sister. Why in the living hell would Park Jihyo put down her brother, as in someone who she was in conflict with, down as her emergency contact? It didn’t compute. </p><p>“Ah, okay.” The man said, taking note on a clipboard that he seemed to conjure from thin air. “Someone will be with you to update and to give you paper work to fill out when someone is available. And we’ll let you know when visitors are allowed up.” </p><p>Young K nodded, guiding Jisung into the waiting room “Thank you.”</p><p>The door clicked shut and it was like the strings holding Young K up were cut, as his body practically folded into the closest chair. His head falling into his hands. </p><p>This definitely didn’t look like the body language of a stone cold killer, especially one that was supposed to be wanting the person he was there for to die. Perhaps there was some truth to what he’d disclosed back at the apartment. </p><p>Feelings weren’t Jisung’s strong suite, especially when they were other people’s. Perhaps he could blame that on a lack of proper nurturing as a child. Normally his reaction would be to give them a blanket or make them some tea or make them laugh, but none of those reactions seemed right. Or feasible with the limited offerings of that tiny room. </p><p>And this was the man who’d literally abducted him, so he really shouldn’t even want to comfort him. </p><p>But he didn’t like to see things suffer. He knew enough about what it felt like to hurt, in more ways than just physical, that he never wished the feeling on anyone else, even his enemy. </p><p>Unable to think of anything else to do, Jisung sat down beside Young K.</p><p>“I’m the oldest.” Young K said into his hands. “And our dad was never there, so I had to take care of them. I drove Chan to his first swim meet. I picked Yeji up from dance class every day. I taught Jaebeom how to tie his tie the night before he started high school. And Jihyo, I was the one that showed up when she broke her arm. Our dad didn’t even pick up the fucking phone.”</p><p>He dragged his fingers back through his hair, letting out a shaky sigh.</p><p>“I thought she’d have taken me off as her emergency contact. Maybe she just forgot. She probably doesn’t want me here.” </p><p>Jisung looked over at him. </p><p>“Dad was right, I always was weak.” He murmured to himself. “Can talk a big game, but I can’t stick the landing when it’s down to the buzzer. Fucking pathetic.”</p><p>The landing being familicide. </p><p>What could Jisung say about that? Half the family he had left were rotting behind bars, with about three-five more years left on their pathetic excuse for a sentence. The other half were using their American citizenship to live free across the ocean. He wasn’t one to speak on complicated feelings about family. </p><p>“I didn’t have much of a family before, I was in and out of shelters and staying in churches. I thought that the day Park Jinyoung took me in, that my life would change for the better. I would finally have a family.” Young K shook his head. “But he would never allow that. Any relationship between us kids was a threat to him. He needed to be in control, to be the top of the chain, the one we trusted. Selfish fucker.”</p><p>Jisung kicked his feet, still wearing the dress shoes he’d worn to the gala hours before with the too big everything he was wearing. He wondered if it appeared as strange to everyone else as it did to him. </p><p>“What am I complaining to you for?”</p><p>“Because I have no choice but to listen.” Jisung said before thinking. </p><p>But that seemed to make Young K laugh. A bright sound that this little room in the back of the hospital seemed so deprived of.</p><p>“There is that.” Young K said, shaking his head. “What has my brother told you about me?”</p><p>“He doesn’t really talk much about you or the others. I just know what I hear from other people.”</p><p>Young K threaded his fingers back behind his head and closed his eyes. “And what do they say?”</p><p>“I heard one person say you ate someone’s heart.” Jisung said sheepishly. </p><p>Young K opened his eyes and furrowed his brows at that. </p><p>“Jesus, what the fuck? I’ve only killed like…three people…maybe? And they were the scum of the earth, so why in hell would I eat their heart?” He scoffed, clearly miffed by that statement. “Besides, who knows what their blood could’ve been contaminated with. Eating a heart- that’s less frightening and more mind-bogglingly stupid.”</p><p>“Just what I heard.”</p><p>“Clearly I need to get a handle on my PR.” </p><p>Jisung smiled in spite of himself, settling into the hardbacked chair. He yawned tiredly, his eyes feeling heavy and his brain already pulling the switches to initiate a shutdown. </p><p>“Feeling a bit sleepy, kid?” Young K asked amusedly. </p><p>“No.” Jisung said, like a liar. </p><p>He didn’t owe his abductor the truth at every turn anyhow. No matter how inconsequential that truth happened to be. </p><p>“Sure.” Young K snorted. “Well, if you do happen to get tired, I am very well versed at sleeping in hospitals, so I can give you some tips.” </p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>Why would his kidnapper even care about whether he was comfortable or not? </p><p>“Okay, if you say so.” Young K said, shifting in his own chair. “Just don’t complain to me if you get some neck pain.”</p><p>It wasn’t as though Jisung was planning on actually falling asleep. But it seemed, like most of that day, some things were just beyond his control.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Not feeling great mentally, so this'll be short and sweet. </p><p>Quick Check-in: Hope everyone is doing alright, especially with all that is happening at the moment. I know it can be a lot. Living history is shit, so take care of yourselves as best as you are able. </p><p>Stay safe. Stay sane. And have a good week. </p><p>Next chapter posted next week at this same time.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Long Nights and Strained Relationships</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Chan can't sleep and he gets a surprise visitor</p><p>TW:// brief mentions of blood</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was past sunset and Chan couldn’t sleep. </p><p>It wasn’t just because the other side of the bed lacked the familiar warmth and presence of Jisung, though that was probably some of it. He had grown more used to the feeling of Jisung hugging him to sleep than he had realized and knowing the worst of the things that could have happened to Jisung, that empty spot was all the colder and more noticeable. </p><p>And his brain had been overloaded with information to process. </p><p>The explosion at Jihyo’s penthouse. The five people, including Jihyo, missing from that. SM and YG being in the game. Jisung and Hyunjin’s disappearances. The leak, and who the information was being funneled to. The traitor among them. And what it would mean for him, and the rest of the team. What he would have to do about it. </p><p>There was so much that he didn’t know where to begin. Everything was of a ‘breaking news’ level of emergency. Red lights. Sirens. Everything was going off and needing his attention. It was like the house was on fire and there were five people trapped inside, all in the same room and he could only carry one, maybe two people to safety at a time. There was no way to morally decide who lived and who died, and he had to make a choice or everyone, including himself was going to go up in flames. Something was going to have to be left for later. But there was no good way to go about deciding. </p><p>If he put Jisung first, he was leaving Hyunjin, Jihyo, and the others for later. If he dealt with the leak first, he’d being doing the same to Jisung. And if he went to find Jihyo first, well, the pattern was obvious enough. </p><p>He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and flopped back against the pillow. </p><p>Think, Bang Chan. Just fucking think. </p><p>He had five people left on his team to work with, disregarding the possibility that any one of them could logically be the leak, and the four women from Jihyo’s team. That was nine people, ten people including himself. It could work. He just needed to be strategic about it. </p><p>He was the only person he knew for certain wasn’t betraying them, so he would have to handle the traitor and plugging up the leak on his own. Which would predictably be a glorious time that definitely wouldn’t make him want to gauge his eyes out. </p><p>With Chaeyoung out of commission, Jeongin was their best bet at finding the others. But it would take time for his tech-wizard algorithm to search through all the data for their particular needle in a haystack. With that many people to find, they would still have to prioritize so they didn’t overwhelm and overload his system. Jeongin was good, but he had limited resources. Maybe Tzuyu had access to Chaeyoung’s…whatever it was that helped them do semi-illegal shit. </p><p>God, he didn’t want to think about anything. </p><p>He just wanted to…he didn’t even know what he wanted anymore.</p><p>It seemed he was due for his quarter-life crisis, or mid-life, or end of life, who was to say he would live past the age of twenty-five. </p><p>Unable to make himself do anymore thinking, Chan got up, hoping that maybe moving around might make him focus better. Or making himself some tea. That might help. </p><p>His brain still felt like lead pudding, heavy and useless in his skull. </p><p>He slugged slowly out of his room and down the hall to the open-floor area that housed the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen. The television was on, playing some late-night reruns, and Minho was still sat up, his laptop open on his lap. He probably hadn’t gotten a good amount of sleep in forty-eight hours, taking on the brunt of the leadership role and being the eldest. And there he was, still pushing ahead, a cup of coffee half-drank on the table beside him. </p><p>“You should really try and get some rest.” Chan said. </p><p>Minho looked up at him, apparently too tired to be surprised or startled, as he usually tended to be. </p><p>“You’re one to talk.” He snorted. </p><p>“Fair enough.” </p><p>Minho shook his head and turned back to his work. </p><p>“What are you doing?” Chan asked, leaning against the back of the couch and peering over Minho’s shoulder. </p><p>“Looking for Jisung, what do you think?” </p><p>Chan hummed softly. </p><p>He could understand the feeling of not being able to stop because if you rested for one moment, that was time that could have been spent finding their friends. </p><p>“What’ve you got?”</p><p>“Jeongin found that only Hyunjin’s comms seemed to have fault with them, so Jisung’s last known location should be accurate.” Minho said, pulling up some photos. “We found his comm set and cell phone in a dumpster a couple blocks away, so that seems to solidify that. Seungmin’s called every hospital in the city. With the intake of patients from the explosion earlier, most places were overwhelmed, so we couldn’t do much as of about five hours ago, but they said they would call back if something turned up. I’ve sent pictures of the tire skid marks at the location we lost Sungie to an old buddy of mine to get a match on that. And now I’m just reviewing the recordings from the feed- Jeongin records everything just in case- around the time he dropped off, but I’m coming up empty.”</p><p>“Play it for me.” Chan said, leaning down closer so Minho wouldn’t be required to up the volume. </p><p>Minho clicked over to a voice recording; it was only a minute or so long. </p><p>“Hey, Jinnie?”</p><p>Chan swore his heart nearly stopped for a moment when he heard Jisung’s voice crackle through the speakers of Minho’s laptop before he remembered that it was just a recording.</p><p>“Since when did you call me, Jinnie?” </p><p>Was Hyunjin’s curt response.</p><p>“I remembered what my English name was just now.” </p><p>“What are you talking about?” Hyunjin replied</p><p>“It’s Peter. Like Peter Pan, except I’ve got a shadow. And I don’t think I can lose it.”</p><p>Someone had taken Jisung. Nobody had explicitly said that, but Chan had figured as much, and this recording corroborated that. That affirmation made Chan’s finger’s close into a white-knuckled fist, his fingernails digging into his palm. </p><p>“Wait-You’re being followed?” Came the voice of Minho-past. “Jisung? Jeongin, where’d he go?”</p><p>“He’s just gone. Disappeared. It sounded like there was some interference on the channel.” Jeongin responded, his voice sounding near frantic. “Some kind of jammer or something.”</p><p>“Hyunjin, you still there?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m here, I’m almost back.” Hyunjin said. “Anyone know what’s going on yet?”</p><p>“Working on it.” Jeongin said through his teeth. “Lix, Changbin, are you finished? Can I pull the alarm?”</p><p>“Pull it, we’re on our way down.”</p><p>“Three of you stay together.” Minho said. “I don’t care what the plan was, I don’t want anyone else alone. Hyunjin?”</p><p>“Coming in the garage now.”</p><p>“Stop.” Chan said, his throat tightening with the guilt of hearing the voices of those he’d let down. “Just….”</p><p>Minho stopped the track, letting the penthouse return to silence again. </p><p>Empty silence. </p><p>A sharp and loud sound cut off whatever guilt trip Chan would have made and caused them both nearly jump out of their skins, as they whirled around to see who or what had made the sound. There was some quick muffled footsteps before they found out that the ‘who’ was Dahyun, and the ‘what’ had probably been a door. She stumbled out into the living area, dressed in a heap of unmatching comfort items, culminating in a bright yellow beanie. </p><p>She froze when she caught a glance of Chan and Minho out of the corner of her eye. </p><p>“Oh, it’s just you.” She said, breathing a sigh of relief, leaning against the wall as if catching her breath. “You scared me, why don’t you turn on a light or something?”</p><p>“Sorry about that.” Chan said, moving over to flip on a light. </p><p>“Is there any food in the fridge?”</p><p>“You can see what you can scrounge up, but I haven’t been able to go grocery shopping in a while, so we’re a little bit sparse.”</p><p>Dahyun gave him a thumbs up and crossed over to rifle around the kitchen for anything worth eating. </p><p>Chan moved back over to where Minho sat. </p><p>He took a long deep breath. </p><p>“I assume Jeongin’s already running the algorithm, right?” Chan asked. </p><p>“Yup, if either of them pop up in any digital form, he’ll be the first to know. And then you’ll know.”</p><p>“Good. I need him to look into some other people as well.” Chan said. </p><p>Minho looked confused. </p><p>“I need him to find my sister.” Chan explained quietly, glancing over at Dahyun, who was squatted in front of the open refrigerator. “Our guests…they work with her. That explosion that was on the news, that was where she lived and now she and four others are MIA.”</p><p>“The one who wants to kill you.” Minho said slowly as if making sure he’d heard it correctly. </p><p>“Well, she hasn’t killed me yet, so-“ Chan said sardonically, holding back a long and heavy sigh. “Try to trust me on this.” </p><p>He wasn’t even completely sure if he trusted himself on this. This was the sibling that had tried to drown him in the family pool when they were eleven and had poisoned his meal on several occasions. Of course, all the rest of his siblings had similar anecdotes to their names, their childhood was atrocious, especially considering that their father encouraged anything short of permanent maiming and death. It was a wonder they all had turned out as well as they had. ‘Well’ being extremely relative. </p><p>But she had located and dug him up when a maligned family friend had buried him alive with the intent of holding their father for money. Which of course, their father would never engage with. So, that was a good moment, he supposed. </p><p>Minho, of course, was not as well versed in the strange nuance that was Chan’s family relationships, so he made no show of hiding his ‘you must be crazy’ face. </p><p>“You’re in charge.” He muttered. “I’ll add it to the list.”</p><p>“Thanks, Min.” Chan said, patting Minho on the shoulder before standing up.</p><p>Minho seemed to be turned to stone.  </p><p>“What is it?” Chan asked, his brain filing through everything he might have said or done to cause such a reaction.</p><p>“Nothing. It’s just, I’m pretty much the only one here that you didn’t already know, I only know Jisung,” He paused briefly after the name. “And not even that well, so you just have never been as comfortable around me is all. You use nicknames for everyone else, but this is the first time you’ve done so with me.” Minho explained quickly. “I was just taken by surprise.”</p><p>The statement took Chan aback. He’d had his concerns about Minho in the beginning, but in the weeks since, Minho had stepped up into a sort of second in command type of position for the other six. It had taken a while for Chan to figure Minho out, but it was very clear that Minho took his work seriously and cared very deeply about the people he was working with. And Jisung trusted him, which was endorsement enough. </p><p>It never really occurred to him that Minho might still feel out of place.</p><p>“Is it alright if I use a nickname?” </p><p>Minho shrugged. “Sure. It’s kind of nice actually.”</p><p>“Okay.” </p><p>An awkward silence hung over them for a brief moment. </p><p>“Is this left-over take-out still good?” Dahyun called from the kitchen, but before either of them could turn around to answer, she answered her own question. “Never mind.”</p><p>Chan cleared his throat. </p><p>“Well, let me know if anything comes up. I’ve got to look into some things on my own.” He said. “Try and get some sleep.”</p><p>“I will if you will.” Minho said with a half-genuine smirk. “So, I guess that means neither of us are going to.”</p><p>Chan was about to give some kind of retort when the doorbell buzzed. </p><p>It was odd. Because that meant there was someone in the lobby who needed to get up. They weren’t expecting anyone to his knowledge. And everyone that regularly needed to get up already had a key, with the exception of Jihyo’s crew, but they were already there. </p><p>He looked to Minho, but Minho seemed just as taken aback as he was. </p><p>“You expecting anyone?” Dahyun asked, a spoon halfway between the carton of ice cream and her mouth. </p><p>“No.” Chan said, moving over to the doorbell/alarm system. </p><p>The ring lit up as coming from the back entrance, which was even more suspicious.</p><p>He pressed the intercom button. </p><p>“Who is this?”</p><p>“Chronosaurous.” A voice said, sounding strained and out of breath. “Please, I can’t hold them both up, Channie. Can you let us up?”</p><p>“Who is this?” Chan repeated. </p><p>“It’s Younghyun, damn it.” The intercom growled. “I’ve got Jisung and Jihyo with me, none of us are in particularly good shape, and we’ve got some friends on our tail that aren’t very fond of us being alive, so please let us up, or send someone down.”</p><p>His stomach dropped at the mention of Jisung’s name. A leap of hope springing back up despite the scolding of him mind telling the rest of him that it was probably a trap. </p><p>He could feel both pairs of eyes on him as he weighed the decision in his mind. </p><p>“Minho, Dahyun, go wake everyone else.” He said, letting go of the intercom button. “I’ll go down and see what’s going on.”</p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>Minho was already out of his seat. </p><p>“Just make sure everyone is up. If I’m not back in ten minutes, you can send in the calvary.” Chan said, grabbing a set of keys from the counter and slipping on some shoes. </p><p>For a moment it felt as though Minho was about to argue, but if he was about to, he held it back until Chan was already out the door.</p><p>He took the elevator down. His fingers drumming on his thigh, counter to the rhythm of the numbers turning above the door and counting down to one. There were two ways this could go. Younghyun was telling the truth, or he was lying. If he was lying, it was possible that he was there to kill Chan. And leaving him out there would be the best bet. If he was telling the truth, if he had Jisung and Jihyo with him, then all three of them might die if he left them out there. </p><p>Even the slightest chance that Jisung was there was enough for Chan to disregard the risk. There was no way in hell that he wouldn’t go if not going meant that Jisung got hurt. He couldn’t do that. </p><p>His father would chide him for being so foolish, he’d chided him for taking Jisung in in the first place, called it a liability, but for once he didn’t care what that particular ghost had to say. At least right then. </p><p>The doors didn’t even slide open on the ground level fully before Chan darted out and toward the back entrance. That entrance was for more well-known residents in times of particular notoriety or public malcontent, so they could go in and out free from the observation of the populous. Probably another reason why his father had favored this place.</p><p>Chan went down the short flight of stairs to the hidden door, his heart betraying him, beating against his ribs, wanting to run ahead and see for itself whether or not Chan had made the right call. </p><p>He pushed it open, and three bodies practically tumbled in, barely staying upright. Jihyo looked as though she’d come back from the dead or was one of the ghosts from the dramas, Jisung in comparison was sweating and flushed, his hair grown stringy with what looked like blood and sweat, and Younghyun was gritting his teeth from some unseen injury, blood coating his hands like a second skin.</p><p>Younghyun shoved Jisung’s limp and barely conscious body into Chan’s arms before he could say anything, slamming the door shut, leaving a bloody handprint behind on the surface. </p><p>They’d have to take care of that eventually before the heiress that lived in the other penthouse apartment saw it and had a heart attack the next time she had a scandal and had to come in the back way. But then was not a good time to do so. </p><p>Jisung didn’t even respond to the manhandling at all, which was more than concerning. He hated being touched by people he didn’t know, and to have someone be in the least bit rough with him would usually result in some reaction. But there was nothing. His head just lulled forward against his chest.</p><p>“You took your time.” Younghyun grunted, readjusting Jihyo’s weight and latching a hand around her to keep her from falling over. </p><p>“What the hell is going on?”</p><p>“I’ll explain later.” Younghyun said. “You’ve still got that medical school kid around, right?”</p><p>“Yes-“</p><p>“Good, he’s going to have his work cut out for him.”  He said, moving toward the stairs. “Try and keep pressure on his left side. There's a knife wound, I’m not sure how bad, but there is a fuck ton of blood. So, can we get upstairs and behind a locked door before you start interrogating me.”</p><p>Knife wound? Jisung had been gone for just over twenty-four hours and Younghyun brings him back, along with Jihyo, looking as though they picked a fight with a wood chipper and lost. He would definitely have some words with his brother later.</p><p>Chan clenched his jaw and didn’t respond, gripping Jisung’s left side and heaving him up the stairs. His frustrations with his family could wait until after he was sure Jisung was going to be okay. </p><p>They made it to the elevator and turned the key for the top floor. </p><p>The silence practically buzzed with tension as the elevator churned slowly upward again. A confined space was no place for animosity. There was nowhere for that tension to go. All of it was just building trapped in the space of a closet, the air becoming hardly breathable from it. Chan had to keep his mind focused on Jisung, getting Jisung to safety, so he didn’t do something regretful. </p><p>The doors finally opened and they stepped out into the hall.</p><p>Chan sure hoped to whatever deity looked out for young adults with unrecommended lifestyles that their heiress neighbor was asleep or watching dramas and wouldn’t come over to ‘check in on them’ when they were moving two people who looked as good as corpses to the untrained eyes into their apartment. It was unclear whether she suspected that they were doing something illegal, or if she was just sweet on Felix, for whom she would often drop off ‘extra food’ when she cooked ‘too much’ for a family gathering or some clothes that allegedly been too small for her grandson. Both could be true at the same time. It was clear she had a distaste for Minho, maybe just because he had parked in her spot when he’d been moving in. Whatever the case was, Chan just hoped she would stay in her apartment until their door was closed and locked.</p><p>That deity seemed in the prayer answering mood because the heiress’s door stayed blessedly closed, and Minho was waiting with the apartment door open as they made their way in. </p><p>“Seungmin, you’re going to need to roll up your sleeves because boy oh boy do we have a job for you.” Minho said, pushing the door open wider for Younghyun and Chan to get into the penthouse. “Felix, you might want to brew some coffee, I get the feeling that it’s going to be a late night.”</p><p>The next twenty minutes was chaotic to say the least. </p><p>“Tell me quickly and succinctly what is wrong with both of them.” Seungmin said to Younghyun, striding into the kitchen and living room area dressed in nightclothes. </p><p>“Jihyo’s got second degree burns on her left side, and doctors say she has some respiratory issues from smoke inhalation. They treated and wrapped the burns upon her arrival. The rest of the injuries are mainly surface level.” Younghyun said, stepping aside as Seungmin breezed past him. “Jisung lost a good amount of blood from a knife wound to his left side.”</p><p>Chan shot a look over to Younghyun. </p><p>“Put her on the closest bed, couch, whatever, put Jisung on the table.” Seungmin instructed the others gathered while scrubbing his hands in the kitchen sink. “I’ll need some clean towels and someone empty out the first aid cabinet, get me whatever’s in there. I’ll need some rubbing alcohol to sterilize.” </p><p>Everyone sprang into action. Jihyo was taken back to the guest room. Everything was swept off the table and a towel was laid down before Jisung was lowered into place. </p><p>He looked so small just lying there. </p><p>“Jisung, are you awake? Can you hear me?” Seungmin said, pulling on some latex gloves that he’d conjured from his bathrobe. </p><p>Jisung groaned in response. </p><p>“I need you to stay awake, okay. This is going to hurt.”</p><p>Even between their three guests giving Younghyun a death glare that would scare the devil and Minho throwing up when Seungmin cut away Jisung’s tee shirt and revealed more fully the extent of his injuries, no conflicts broke out. Chan was pretty sure everyone was just not wanting to get on Seungmin’s bad side. Seungmin could be damn intimidating when he was focused in on a task. </p><p>“Felix, go over across the hall and see if Ms. Na has some extra gauze, say it’s for someone who spilled coffee on themselves.” Seungmin instructed as he bent over Jisung’s unmoving body, checking the pulse and breathing, counting under his breath as he looked down at his watch. “Heartrate’s steady and he’s still breathing.”</p><p>After about two hours, it seemed as though both patients were as good as it was going to get in their make-shift field hospital. Jisung was stable and awake again and Jihyo was resting, so it was about all that could be done. </p><p>Without a word, Chan grabbed Younghyun by the arm and dragged him back to the privacy of the room he shared with Jisung. Anger was practically bubbling out of every pore at that point. </p><p>He didn’t get angry easily. It was something he prided himself on. His patience and restraint. But he did have a line. It was in red and bolded, and he couldn’t contend with people crossing that line. And when they did cross it, he would certainly lash out. </p><p>The door didn’t even close before Chan grabbed Younghyun’s collar and slammed him against the wall. The force of it rattled the framed pictures of abstract flowers that hung there and had come with the penthouse. Younghyun breath seemed caught off guard at the sudden attack, he winced slightly, but didn’t fight it, he just put his hands up in a display of surrender. </p><p>“You’ve gotten stronger, little brother.” He commented wryly. “Congratulations.”</p><p>“What did you do to him?” Chan growled; the little monster eager to finally be released without any suppression from its cage in Chan’s chest.</p><p>“I didn’t do anything.” </p><p>Chan twisted the fabric tighter in his fists, pulling the height difference between them down a level. </p><p>“Bullshit.”</p><p>“Do whatever you have to in order to feel better, but my answer’s not going to change.” Younghyun said calmly. “I didn’t touch a hair on his sweet little head. I probably saved a few of them actually, so I’ll be awaiting your ‘thank you’ note in the near future.”</p><p>When Chan stayed silent, Younghyun continued.</p><p>“Think about it, Channie. Hurting someone like that isn’t my style. Never has been. Taking the kid was a psychological thing.” He said, his voice still unwavering. “Your head has always been so easy to get into.”</p><p>Of course he would speak sense when Chan was pissed off. Unless of course it was another mind game, which it could have very well been. Bluff. Double-bluff. Triple-bluff. It was near impossible to know how far he would go. Younghyun always liked to play psychological chess, rather than play along with the gratuitous violence that others like Yeji and Jaebeom favored. He would pick people’s minds until they fell apart in his hands. And it was effective. </p><p>Chan could remember an incident with a stray dog that he’d taken in during school. Once Chan had pissed off Younghyun enough that he’d taken the dog and locked it up in a wooden chest. For hours he made Chan believe that the dog was slowly suffocating in the box, waxing on about Schrödinger’s cat and that if Chan wanted to get the dog back he would have to apologize to Younghyun’s satisfaction. Chan had cried so much that he’d thrown up, as Younghyun just kept going on in gruesome detail about the logistics of dying by suffocation. In the end, after nearly five hours of Chan begging and apologizing for whatever it was that he’d supposedly done. Younghyun opened the box to reveal that the dog was actually fine, drugged to sleep, and that he’d drilled airholes in the back of the trunk so the dog was never in any danger of dying. As if Chan were supposed to be grateful. </p><p>Suffice to say, he was never going to take Younghyun’s word at face value. </p><p>“And I’m just supposed to believe you?”</p><p>“Believe what you like,” Younghyun scoffed. “I couldn’t give a rats ass about whether you believe I’m telling the truth or not. It doesn’t fucking matter. But if you let go of me, I can tell you what happened, which I guarantee will be more productive than hitting me. It’s your choice though.”</p><p>Chan held on stubbornly. </p><p>He knew that Younghyun was speaking logically, but the deeper part of his psychological issues told him not to trust a word that his brother said.</p><p>“Come on, Channie.” Younghyun said, reaching up to grip Chan’s wrists. “I know you’re not stupid. Just let go and we can talk this out like adults.”</p><p>Eventually, Younghyun just pried Chan’s hands away without resistance.</p><p>“There we go.” He said, brushing out the wrinkles from his shirt. “Let’s sit, shall we?”</p><p>So they did, and Younghyun started speaking.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Another chapter posted!</p><p>I hope everyone is doing well. To be honest, posting this story has really helped me push through the point where I ordinarily abandon my stories. So thank you to everyone who has read and supported this story. </p><p>New post next week as usual.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. A Long Story and an Inevitable Conclusion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Younghyun tells a story and Chan listens</p><p>TW:// mentions of blood and needles</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>A nurse knocked on the door at about a little past eight in the morning. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>At that point they’d been sitting there for over seven hours with very little information. Jisung had since fallen asleep, curled up in the hardbacked chair, his head drooped against Younghyun’s shoulder, breathing gently, ruffling the stray lock of hair that had fallen into his face. The kid looked even younger and more innocent when he was asleep, if that was even possible, the worries and concerns that sat trapped in his body melting away in slumber. The worries and concerns that aged him in ways Younghyun could only recognize when they had gone away. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He knew enough about what had happened to the kid. While he hadn’t been there, and Chan never let anyone within any distance of the kid, he’d heard second hand about the young boy that Chan had found chained up in a windowless room that that had been boarded over with drywall, a dog’s pinch collar strapped around his neck and attached to the wall with not even enough give to let the kid lay down. Of course, he got a lot more information after the case broke in the Korean media, a sensation that was all the nation could talk about for a short while. It was through a newspaper that he actually figured out what the kid looked like. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>And now, there the kid was, asleep. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>For a moment it almost felt as though the kid, Jisung, were his little brother. There was an odd sort of feeling that Jisung managed to elicit. An urge to protect him and take care of him, which was problematic for Younghyun’s current plan. He understood why Chan was so fond of the kid. There was just something about him. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Visitors for Ms. Park Jihyo?” The nurse said in a sharp professional tone before looking down and noticing that Jisung was asleep. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Her eyes widened slightly.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Sorry.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s fine.” Younghyun assured her. “Jihyo’s ready for visitors, you said?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, but I can come get you later if that would be better.” She said, taking a step back. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“No, no, now is perfectly fine.” He said, carefully standing up, lowering Jisung’s head gently back down. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“You sure?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah, I’m sure. I can just carry him up.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He looked down at the kid for a moment before scooping under the boy’s legs and back, letting the kid’s head fall against his shoulder, his breath fluttering the stray pieces of hair and tickling the skin of Younghyun’s neck. Wonpil had been right, the kid was remarkably portable. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The kid didn’t even stir, still fast asleep. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Follow me and I’ll take you right up.” The nurse said, beckoning Younghyun to follow. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He followed the nurse back down the hall and through the lobby area, which had cleared up considerably since the last time he’d seen it. They headed over to the elevators, Younghyun attempted to keep his upper body as stable as possible so the kid wouldn’t get startled awake. From what he knew about the kid, he might freak out if he woke up being carried somewhere. The nurse pressed the button to go up, </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>They stepped inside, Younghyun turning to keep the kid’s head from hitting the frame, and the nurse pressed the button for the third floor. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The nurse looked over at him, smiling warmly. “He’s lucky to have such a good older brother.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Younghyun laughed wryly, looking down at the kid nestled in his arms. “I’m not that great, believe me. I wish I were. He deserves way better.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>And he meant it. It almost scared him how much he meant it. He’d known this kid for all of ten hours, give or take. But somehow, he meant those words. A part of him almost wished that the kid was his little brother, in some parallel world, maybe he was, and life was normal and Younghyun hadn’t been raised up to be a monster. Some people just deserved good things, but Younghyun had done too much in his life to be one of those people. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re very sweet with him.” The nurse said. “It’s cute.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Thanks, I guess.” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re welcome.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The bell dinged and the doors opened on the third floor. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The third floor seemed to be where the crowd from the lobby had migrated, as it was impossible to take a step without taking two more to avoid running into a nurse, a doctor, a visitor, or a patient. Bits and pieces of conversations passed him by as they travelled down the corridor. Some people were crying, some with relief others with heart-wrenching grief. Emotion was so thick in the narrow space it could have suffocated them. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Except for two women who stood against a wall conversing quietly. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>They looked up as Younghyun passed by, meeting his eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Here we are.” The nurse said, opening the door and pushing into a room near the nurses’ station. “Go on and have a seat.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Jihyo was sat up on the bed, wrapped up in bandages up her left side and around her neck. An IV was hooked into the crook of her elbow. Her hair on that side was singed and the room smelled like a mix of smoke and rubbing alcohol. She looked as though death had taken a human form. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He walked over and lowered Jisung into one of the plastic chair and settled down in the other. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The nurse asked Jihyo a few questions, which she answered calmly, if a bit hoarsely, looking at Younghyun and Jisung suspiciously out of the corner of her eye. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Alright, I’ll leave you three alone. Press the button if you need anything.” The nurse said, marking some things in her notes. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Thank you.” Jihyo and Younghyun said in tandem. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The nurse nodded and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>There was a moment of silence as they waited an obligatory couple of seconds to ensure that no one was going to walk in again. Jihyo shifted on her bed and fixed Younghyun with a look. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Either I’m high out of my mind or I’m dead.” She croaked. “Because there is no way in hell you are actually here.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Wrong on both counts, little sister.” Younghyun said, conjuring a trademark smirk. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He might have been there out of concern, but he would be damned if he didn’t partake in his ordained duties as the oldest sibling. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Kill me now.” She said, pushing her head back against the pillow and closing her eyes. “Why are you here then?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m still your emergency contact.” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Fuck, I knew there was something I kept forgetting to do.” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Younghyun snorted. “Yeah, well, don’t worry. I consider a hospital to be neutral ground. However, I don’t expect everyone else to hold the same moral code I do, so until you’re back on your feet and well enough to eviscerate me, I’m going to keep an eye out for you.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“This is why dad always berated you.” Jihyo huffed. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I’ve got everyone else fooled. According to sources I eat the hearts of my enemies.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“That’s disgusting.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Younghyun rolled his eyes. “I don’t actually do that, dumbass. But I can’t really help if everyone else thinks I do.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Jihyo turned her head over, fixing him with an unimpressed look. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I didn’t realize it was bring your child to work day.” She said, gesturing weakly toward Jisung. “What is he, twelve?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Not mine, I’m just borrowing him from Channie for a day or two.” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh, wait, that’s the kid?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Apparently Jisung had made a name for himself in the immediate family circle. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Younghyun nodded. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“That’s the one. I can see why Channie kept him around now that I’ve had him for a couple hours. He’s actually a sweet kid. And he’s closer to twenty than twelve.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Why do you have him?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Because it will cause our brother mental turmoil.” He said, looking down at his fingers casually. “I’m doing my part. He’s less cautious when he’s emotional, open season for someone else to do the dirty work. I don’t get my hands dirty on principle.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“You are a pinnacle of morality and principle.” Jihyo muttered sarcastically. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“It is true.” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Why couldn’t we have been adopted into two different homicidal families?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Fate has it’s favorites and it is neither you nor I, little sister.” Younghyun said with a yawn. “Pretentious fucker.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Jihyo looked over at the clock on the wall and flubbed her lips. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“What are we supposed to do now?” She asked. “Since you’re not here to kill me.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I mean, I could kill you, if you really want me to.” Younghyun said. “Smother you with a pillow.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>That did not seem to amuse her, judging by the middle finger pointed in his direction. It was really an incredible feat considering that she could barely move a muscle at the time. He could appreciate the dedication to her craft. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He smiled.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Fuck you.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re welcome.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Then came the awkward silence. As it always did. Bickering could only hold a conversation for so long, and they were at each other’s throats for so much of their childhood that they couldn’t really figure out how to carry out a regular conversation with one another. Sure, they could sweet talk a business man out of half of his shares, but between themselves a conversation usually lasted about three minutes and ended in some form of blood. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Most of the scars on his body didn’t have a cool backstory. Just them trying to be human and not quite knowing how to do it.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“So, do you have any idea who’s responsible?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I do. But I’m not going to tell you.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“How about if I guess? And you can tell me if I’m getting hot or cold?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>It was a perfect solution. He could read all of his siblings pretty well, or at least he liked to think that he could. Especially if it was as emotionally and psychologically significant as someone attempting to blow them up. If he got close to the answer, he would be able to tell. Probably. There was a margin for error of course, but the odds were in his favor. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Was it exploiting a potentially traumatic event? Maybe. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>But they were essentially made of years of trauma stacked up and stuck into a trench coat and made to act like human beings, so what was one more dose of it? They were more likely to break down over little annoyances like losing their keys or burning food. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>This was nothing. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Alright, this is going to take a while. There’s a long list of people who would like to blow you up.” He said, filing through the names and organizations that might want Jihyo dead in his head. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He could weed out the family. None of them were particularly known for playing with fire. Their father had hated the use of arson on a job, said it was a sloppy and lazy way to clean up a scene. Yeji and Jaebeom liked using close-up violence, this wouldn’t be their style. Nor was it the style of those they employed, unless they’d updated their rosters. Plus Yeji was in a fragile alliance with him, so he knew with a fair amount of certainty that she was following her own unrelated trail in the opposite direction. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Chan, well, he was the ‘golden boy’. He didn’t do violence unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then, he made sure it was quick and clean. Like the job earlier that night. Reading the plan bought from the broker online, it was even more evident that Chan wouldn’t do something that messy and with so many variants for something to go wrong. Like Jihyo surviving.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>And he knew he hadn’t done it.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Their father had hated the use of arson on a job, said it was a sloppy and lazy way to clean up a scene. The childhood programing spoke for itself. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>That, logically, concluded that it was the work of an outside entity. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>And if that were true, that meant there was competition in the game. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>SM. Maybe Cube or Big Hit.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Of those potential suspects, only one had a particularly smoky signature. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>And that was YG. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>A cold feeling seeped into his chest.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>They were the dark horse. And preferred distance to their kills. Something that didn’t leave fingerprints. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Fire. Drowning. Hit and Runs. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>They may not have been clean, but they were fast and easy, with a good return on investment, even if the success rate was bordering on middle of the pack. Unfortunately, YG didn’t like survivors. Which meant that they would track down take out the survivors later. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Their elite kill-squad. The Janitors of YG, going behind and cleaning up the messes. They would take out the survivors and anyone that stood in their way. Make it look like an accident. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>A suicide. A heart attack. Overdose. A fall down the stairs.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Nobody really knew what they looked like. Who they were. Just that they were good. And they got results.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>If he were correct, that it was a YG job, then that kill squad was likely already at the hospital. And if they were there, all three of them, and any member of the hospital staff that walked in at the wrong time, would effectively be dead. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Jihyo, was it a YG job?” He asked finally. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>She was silent, her expression fixed neutrally at the wall. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Damn it, Jihyo!” He exclaimed, standing up. “You need to tell me now if it was YG, because if it was, than we’re all dead. Us and then whoever else on your little team survived the blast.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Then go.” She said icily, looking at him dead in the eyes, her own watery. “Don’t feel the need to die on my account. I am well and able to handle my own disasters. Suffer what consequences they bring.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>That was confirmation enough. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Younghyun pulled the blinds aside, looking up at the neighboring rooftops and windows. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re not going to be a martyr on my watch, asshole.” He grumbled, mostly to himself. “You’re my little sister, not fucking Joan of Arc. Only I’m allowed to kill you.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t be stupid.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He could hear the agitation in her voice.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re the stupid one, stupid. And it’s fucking contagious. So, thanks a lot for that, now I’ve caught it.” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re hopeless.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Younghyun stopped for a moment and snorted mirthlessly. “So I’ve been told.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>It was at that time that Jisung chose to wake up. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>First, slowly, blinking like a fawn opening its eyes for the first time, and then all at once, as though he were a wounded animal backed into a corner, nearly falling out of his chair as his eyes darted around to try and figure out what had happened. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Whoa, kid, hey, it’s alright.” Younghyun said, outstretching his hands instinctively. “You’re okay.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Well, sort of. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He looked up at Younghyun with a petrified expression that might as well have punched him in the gut. Having this kid around wasn’t good for him. It would probably eventually get him killed because seeing the kid look at him like that made him willing to do damn near everything to make sure he stayed safe. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Younghyun knelt down, a short distance from Jisung. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>As he opened his mouth to speak, the door opened behind him. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Younghyun ducked down grabbing Jisung and gripping a hand over his mouth. The kid was shaking badly in his arms, and Younghyun could feel the frantic pounding of his heart against the arm that was wrapped around his chest to keep him still. He was so small, so fragile feeling in his grip, it was hard not to think that too much pressure would break the kid in half.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He could see two sets of feet walk into the room.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Lisa. Jennie.” Jihyo said calmly. “It’s been a while.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The door shut.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Jihyo.” One woman replied. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“When was it? The winter retreat?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Sounds right.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>A pause. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“So, are you here to kill me?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes.” Another woman replied. “Where is your brother?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Younghyun held his breath. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jihyo said. “No brother of mine would be here unless it were to do what you are already here to do.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>One of the women snorted. “You can fool many people, Park Jihyo, but we aren’t among them, so don’t bullshit me.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The bed groaned as some weight was added. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He heard Jihyo’s breath hitch slightly.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I saw your brother, Kang Younghyun, walk in here not ten minutes ago. He had a younger boy with him.” The woman said. “Now I could tear this place apart to find them. But I’d rather not exert more energy than I strictly need to.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Another pause. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Younghyun looked up. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He met the eyes of a woman. The woman from the hall.  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Never mind.” She said, crawling over the side of the bed and dropping down in front of them. “Found you.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>She had short hair and sharp eyes, the YG aura radiating from every pore. Like nightshade, she might look harmless, but she was certifiably a threat to health and safety.  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m Lisa.” She said with a sugary smile and a fluttering wave. “I don’t think we’ve officially met.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“No, I haven’t had the pleasure.” Younghyun said, not loosening his grip on Jisung as of yet. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The kid seemed to have frozen in place, actually leaning into him more, as if Younghyun might be able to protect him. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Cute kid, is it yours?” She asked, tilting her head as though to get a better look at Jisung.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Nope, just holding onto him for a bit.” He replied. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“So, you wouldn’t mind if I were to borrow him for a quick moment, would you?” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Her hand reached out toward them, and in a split second, Jisung had broken Younghyun’s grasp and had rolled to the side, knocking into the chairs they had formerly been occupying, away from what Younghyun had half a second to realize was a syringe before he too had to dodge it. How the kid had recognized and reacted to it so fast was a mystery, but he didn’t exactly have the time to ponder it. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Okay, hard way it is.” Lisa said, all playfulness vanished from her voice. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>And chaos ensued.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>It was hard to tell what all that had gone on while being in the middle of it, trying his best to survive. Even retrospect was all a bit jumbled up, so much happening at once that even hours after he remembered new details. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He remembered tackling the woman that must have been Jennie from off of Jihyo, and pulling the IV out of Jihyo’s arm, a move that the hospital staff would not approve of, but a necessary one in the situation he’d found himself in. Out of the corner of his eye he knew the kid was seriously outpowered by Lisa, who clearly had been trained for this kind of thing,  though he was putting up a better fight than Younghyun had anticipated. Fight being a relative term. It was more along the lines of frantic ducking and dodging. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Younghyun grabbed a pillow from the hospital bed throwing it at Jennie as he dragged Jihyo over the other side of the bed. Jihyo cried out in pain as she landed on the badly injured side of her body. While on the floor, he desperately flipped the locking mechanisms on the wheels of the bed, shoving the now mobile equipment with as much force as he could muster headboard first away from them and into Jennie, who had, by that point made her way around to the other side. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>It was all about buying time when you were caught off guard, time and space. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>However he could. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>His brain was quickly switching into survival mode, accessing everything he’d ever been programed into learning.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Jihyo was physically incapacitated and Jisung was underexperienced, which essentially meant that even though there were three of them against two, in terms of balance, they were outnumbered. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He practically threw himself across the room, with the bed no longer in his way toward the wheelchair that sat in the corner. Like the bed he disengaged the brakes and shoved it over to Jihyo. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Thankfully, she managed to snag it with her free hand as she used the other to try and fight a syringe out of Jennie’s hand, swinging the chair around to hit Jennie in the shins and knock her back a couple steps. Adrenaline was probably the only thing keeping Jihyo in the fight at the moment, every move inhibited by whatever pain killer they’d given her and the extent of her injuries.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Don’t fucking move!” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Younghyun froze, his eyes pulled away from Jihyo and toward the source of the outburst.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>It took Younghyun a second to process that. Lisa had her arm latched around Jisung’s throat. The kid desperately clawed at her to get away, stubborn tears dribbling down his cheeks as he tried to relieve the pressure around his neck. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I will snap the kid’s neck.” She said, her words steely despite the amount of cardio packed into the last couple of minutes. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Let him go.” Younghyun said, holding his hands up as his mind raced to find a way out. “Please, just let him go.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>This kid shouldn’t matter to him. He was Chan’s little pet project, his weak point, his problem. The kid was supposed to be a pawn to move around this chessboard. Jisung wasn’t supposed to become that for Younghyun in the mere hours that he’d known that scrappy kid. But somehow, the kid did matter. He’d somehow managed to make himself matter, to the point where Younghyun might actually do something stupid if it meant that he didn’t have to see Jisung get hurt. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Get on your knees. I got woken from a nice nap for this shit and you’re royally pissing me off, so don’t give me a reason to do something we’ll both regret.” Lisa said. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He gritted his teeth, and got down on his knees, looking over at Jihyo, who was still on the floor with Jennie silently struggling for the upper hand. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Please.” He all but whispered. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Her expression said everything Younghyun had already thought. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>‘For that kid? Really?’</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>And he could practically hear his father berating him from whatever afterlife had actually been willing to let him in. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“You really are stupid.” She muttered, loosening her grip and letting Jennie pin her to the floor. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He didn’t have a plan. No ideas.  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>That was until the door was pushed opened, and the nurse from earlier rushed in. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>With the second of distraction, Younghyun lunged forward tugging both Lisa and Jisung to the floor. The kid yelped in pain as Younghyun wrenched Lisa’s arm from around his neck. Something clattered to the floor behind them. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He couldn’t distantly register the nurse calling for security, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Jihyo had also seemed to have taken advantage of the situation, her teeth and face stained red with blood. From the discarded needle that had scattered across the floor and the blood dripping down Jennie’s forearm, he could safely assume that Jihyo had bitten her. Hard. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Why was it that he had the reputation of eating hearts again?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>No time to ponder. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He kept a hold on Lisa, swiping the needle from off the floor and stabbing it into her neck before she inevitably shook him loose. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Though he would have liked time to pat himself on the back for such an ingenious in the moment move, he pushed Lisa away from him and heaved himself to his feet again, his body loudly protesting, reminding him that he was getting too old for this shit. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>With both distracted by whatever concoction was in that syringe, or rather, no longer in the syringe, Younghyun bodily helped Jihyo into the wheelchair and skirted toward the door, snagging Jisung’s wrist dragging him along behind as they dodged past the nurse into the hallway. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The crowds parted like the sea, maybe due the odd and mildly terrifying sight of a woman bandaged up and covered in blood being raced down the hallway in a wheelchair by two people who were definitely not hospital staff and looked as though they were fleeing the scene of a crime. Which they were…sort of. They were victims of a crime. Who had also done their share of crimes. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>It was morally gray. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Younghyun punched the button for the elevator and pulled them all inside as the doors opened, slamming the button for the ground floor.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He didn’t relax until the doors had fully secured closed. It was only then that he let out the breath he’d been holding.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Looking around at the other two. Just as he assured himself that both were okay, he noticed the steadily growing puddle of blood dripping at Jisung’s feet. Then he noticed the way Jisung was sagged against the wall for support, his hand clutching at his left side. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He stepped over, pulling Jisung’s hand away to reveal a grisly gash slashed into his torso, just above his hip. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Shit.” Younghyun murmured. “Try and keep yourself awake, kiddo. Chan’s going to kill me if you bleed out on my watch.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Jisung laughed almost deliriously, groaning in pain, clapping his hand back over the wound. “Ow.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Fuck. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>“I spent half a day laying low at one of my safe houses, which turned out to be not so safe because the other half of the Murder Squad showed up.” Younghyun sighed, clapping his hands together in conclusion. “Which is why we are now here, covered in blood and half-dead. Still want to punch me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>Younghyun sighed. “Fair enough.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I won’t, so long as you tell me three more things.”</p><p> </p><p>“Depends on what the things are.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who is the broker? And where is Hyunjin? Do you know the third party that bought the information?”</p><p> </p><p>Chan didn’t expect Younghyun to know everything, but one in three would still give him some idea as to where to start.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know who the broker is, but I know their User ID.” Younghyun said. “It’s User19141115.”</p><p> </p><p>That meant absolutely nothing to Chan offhand, but it would be a good place to start.</p><p> </p><p>“My target was always Jisung.” Younghyun said. “And I don’t know who the third buyer was.”</p><p> </p><p>It was very little, but at least Chan knew a little something more than he had before.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright.” Chan said heavily.</p><p> </p><p>There was a lot to deal with. Least of all if Younghyun coming there had brought them into the line of fire of YG, quite literally. They’d need to go to ground for a while. Yeji and Jaebeom would too if they were smart.</p><p>
  
</p><p>He needed to make a couple calls.</p><p> </p><p>As he stood up the door creaked slowly open.</p><p> </p><p>Changbin peered into the room, his expression dour.</p><p> </p><p>“The front desk called up, said there’s police coming up. The have some warrants. Also said there’s a Detective Oh with them.” He said grimly. “What should I do?”</p><p> </p><p>Perfect. Just perfect.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll figure something out, just get a bag packed. Bare essentials. Have everyone else do the same. And get one together for Jisung.” Chan replied, looking down at the floor. “Have Sana and the others do the same.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin nodded and slipped out.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you planning, little brother?” Younghyun asked, laying back on the bed and closing his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Hopefully something that will hit two birds with one stone.” Chan murmured, grabbing a pen and a pad of paper from out of the drawer of the night stand table.</p><p> </p><p>‘Mole. Online Alias: User19141115. 3 buyers: YK, PJ, 3<sup>rd</sup> Buyer SM? House on Fire. June 18, 2015. Go to Yeji.”</p><p> </p><p>He paused for a moment, looking down at the paper, before adding:</p><p> </p><p>‘<em>cum totum fecisse putas, latet anguis in herba’</em></p><p> </p><p>Jisung would get it.</p><p> </p><p>God, he hoped Jisung would understand.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A bit of a different chapter, but it was the best way to keep the pace of the story going. Hope you enjoyed.</p><p>Same time next week.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. A Cryptic To-Do List and An Unforeseen Revelation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jisung wakes up with some not so fun chores</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At that point, Jisung should have been used to waking up in a strange place that he hadn’t fallen asleep in. But no matter how many times he did so, the sensation was no less alarming than it had been the first time he’d done so. </p><p>The last thing he really remembered was getting into the elevator at the hospital, his side felt as though it were split open with pain. The rest, whatever time had passed in between, was just a blur of fragmented memory, incomplete and utterly unhelpful. He thought he’d heard Chan’s voice, but that might have just been a hallucination because he wasn’t at the penthouse. </p><p>Looking around, he couldn’t place where he was. Just that he was in someone else’s bedroom in someone else’s home. And it smelled like an odd mix of rose petals and baby powder, which, while not all that unpleasant in and of itself, was rather off-putting. </p><p>He didn’t like this. </p><p>Not one bit.</p><p>His brain screamed danger, and his body screamed for him to run. </p><p>He went to push the rather heavy comforter off of him. A pain ripped through his left side, pushing him back down onto the bed. </p><p>Ow. </p><p>Slowly, he pulled up the shirt that he didn’t remember putting on gingerly. It was his but he didn’t remember changing into it. His abdomen was sheathed in white bandages that wrapped around him, padded thicker on the side where he’d felt the pain. </p><p>So, he had been stabbed. Good to know. Nothing to freak out about in the least. </p><p>His body was buzzing with anxiousness that had nowhere to go. </p><p>What was happening?</p><p>He got his answer as though the universe had a line to his inner monologue, when the door to what he would later understand was the adjoining bathroom opened and Felix walked out in a towel, scrubbing his hair dry. It seemed that Felix didn’t quite notice him for a moment as he walked over to the nightstand where a pile of clothes had been left out and folded, picking them up and holding them against him to check sizing. </p><p>“Jesus,” Jisung said with a huff, looking (respectfully) at Felix’s very toned stomach. “I feel inadequate now.”</p><p>Felix spun around, his face literally lighting up. He’d always thought that the phrase was overused and exaggerated, but with Felix, it seemed very fitting. </p><p>“You’re awake!”</p><p>He bounded across the room to tackle Jisung in a hug. </p><p>Jisung yelped both in surprise and pain as he moved wrong, trying to block some of Felix’s incoming momentum. </p><p>“Pants first, then hugs. Pants first, then hugs.” Jisung repeated from under the smothering pressure of Felix’s damp embrace. </p><p>“Oh, right, sorry.”</p><p>That got him off, for long enough for Jisung to catch a coupled gulps of air before going right back to not being able to breathe. </p><p>Usually he’d be panicking about being smothered, having someone essentially on top of him, but like with much else, Felix was just different. Despite being a contract killer, and Jisung knowing that about him, there wasn’t anything very threatening about him. He was easy to trust, that was coming from Jisung, and he was easy to feel close with even after just a few short minutes. Felix just had that warmth about him, as if Jisung were hugging the human embodiment of the sun. </p><p>Finally, after several minutes, Felix pulled back and rolled over to the other side of the bed, shoulder to shoulder. </p><p>“I was so fucking worried about you.” Felix said, staring up at the ceiling, his fingers playing with Jisung’s mindlessly. </p><p>“Thanks?” Jisung said, turning his head over to look at Felix, unsure of how he was supposed to respond. Knowing people actually cared about him was vaguely pressuring. Now he had to stay alive or else he would make Felix sad.</p><p>Felix laughed, his ears turning pink. “I just mean that you’re a nice person to be around. The way you talk about things and ideas and everything is just so…nice, to listen to. And the world would’ve been lesser if you were gone.”</p><p>“High praise. I don’t know if I deserve that level of poetry.” </p><p>“You do.” Felix said, turning to meet Jisung’s eyes, his gaze earnest and sincere. </p><p>Well, fuck. Compliments were something he wasn’t known for being particularly good at receiving. The fact that someone thought about him in such a way was almost uncomfortable. </p><p>“I hope this doesn’t sound stupid, but where are we exactly?” </p><p>“Oh, um, we’re across the hall. Ms. Na’s spare room.” Felix replied. </p><p>“The one who’s in love with you.”</p><p>“She’s not in love with me. She’s just being nice.”</p><p>“Well, it’s either that or she wants to legally adopt you and put you as the sole beneficiary of her will.” Jisung said. “She’s not this nice to anyone else. Minho, I get, he’s an acquired taste, but why not Jeongin? Or Seungmin, who’s literally a med student?” </p><p>“I don’t know, Sung.” Felix chuckled, shaking his head. </p><p>“Carries over to a second question.” Jisung continued. “Why are we here? In Ms. Na’s spare room?” </p><p>“Oh, um,” Felix started.</p><p>Any sentence that began that hesitantly never bore good news.</p><p>“Well, um, Chan had me take you over here when the police came. Everyone is being held under suspicion in relation to involvement in the disappearance of Choi Ilsung.” Felix explained carefully. “You were in bad shape and YG wants you dead now, so we’re here now and fugitives of the law, which is fun, but at least you’re alive.”</p><p>“Chan’s been arrested?” Jisung asked weakly, his heart dropping. </p><p>Chan was so careful. He was so good at what he did that he seemed invincible, and Jisung by proxy was invincible too. Now it felt as though the protection and security Chan provided had been demolished, and Jisung was wholly vulnerable, again. </p><p>“Yes, along with almost everyone in the apartment. Seungmin isn’t, they don’t have enough on him to hold him as of yet.” Felix said. “It was overwhelming enough when you and Hyunjin vanished. Then we get you back, and everything goes to shit again.” </p><p>“Wait, Hyunjin?” Jisung asked. </p><p>“Hyunjin didn’t come back that night either.” Felix said thickly. “We’ve been trying to find him, but then all of this happened and…”</p><p>Felix trailed off. </p><p>“What are we supposed to do?” Jisung whispered. </p><p>“Chan gave me a note to give to you when you woke up, said that he trusted you to understand.” </p><p>Not too much pressure then. Especially when he was two seconds from a complete and utter mental shutdown.</p><p>Felix rolled over and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He ran his fingers over the spines of a stack of books before pulling it out before methodically flipping through the pages and extracting a small piece of paper folded up into quarters. </p><p>“Here.”</p><p>The paper was given to Jisung, passed as though it were a holy relic of some kind. As if it might hold the key, the answers to everything they wanted to know. What were they supposed to do? How were they supposed to do it? Should they do anything at all?</p><p>Without his permission, Jisung’s hands shook as he opened the paper. </p><p>He could feel Felix watching him as he did so, waiting almost as anxiously as him, though perhaps better at hiding it. </p><p>Looking down, there were only a few words scrawled on the surface:</p><p>‘Mole. Online Alias: User19141115. 3 buyers: YK, PJ, 3rd Buyer SM? House on Fire. June 18, 2015. Go to Yeji. cum totum fecisse putas, latet anguis in herba’</p><p>That was it? </p><p>This was Chan’s message. </p><p>He must’ve been in a hurry, only putting down the bare bones of a fully-fleshed out idea. That’s what they did. It was how Jisung would communicate with Chan when he was in the hospital and wouldn’t speak in front of the nurses or doctors, and Chan would read aloud from the books he was assigned for school. Pass a notepad back and forth. Communicating in movie references and obscure literary quotes or proverbs. It was almost like their own made-up language, made up of a Frankenstein’s monster of different languages, with nuances that only they could truly decipher.  </p><p>“Hey, Lix?” Jisung said without looking up. </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Can you get me a pen and some paper?”</p><p>“Sure, be right back.”</p><p>Jisung’s brain jumpstarted into action. </p><p>Okay. There was a mole, probably within the core eight if Chan was telling him about it. They used the online handle User19141115. And they had been selling information. There were three buyers. YK was most likely Young K. PJ equaled Park Jihyo. And Chan believed that SM was the third but was unsure. </p><p>The next part confused him. But there was a date, so maybe Chan needed him to get into the public record to figure out the rest. The phrase ‘House on Fire’ was placed before the date, so they were probably connected. Maybe the name of a club or maybe he was referring to a friendship or a partnership, inferred through referencing the old-adage ‘to get along like a house on fire’. Or perhaps he meant a literal fire. Whatever the case, the date was likely tied to that phrase and whatever he’d intended for it to mean. </p><p>Yeji. </p><p>That was the youngest of the whole fucked up brood. Hwang Yeji. </p><p>Chan didn’t speak about her much. </p><p>What Jisung did know was that she was supposed to be wanting him dead. So Chan had better of had a damn good reason for telling Jisung to go to her. </p><p>The last part was Latin, Jisung knew that for sure. Whether it was meant to pertain to Yeji or not was up in the air. But it was written slightly set apart from the rest, as though an afterthought or a post-script. He would have to translate it to know for sure what it said, and hopefully that would clue him into what Chan had meant by it. He was good at many things, and knew a lot of useless things, but reading Latin was not one of those things. </p><p>A few moments later Felix came back in with a pad of paper and a pen. </p><p>Jisung took it from him without a word, scratching down his thought process silently until everything was out of his head, and there was room to continue his train of thought.</p><p>“Felix, I need to know everything that happened from the night of the gala onward.”</p><p>“Um, okay, I can do that.”</p><p>With Felix’s contribution, Jisung jotted down a timeline, from when he’d been abducted to the present:</p><p>Friday</p><p>8:22 pm: Abduction</p><p>8:23-8:44 pm: Hyunjin fails to arrive</p><p>8:30 pm: Jeongin, Felix, and Changbin leave gala</p><p>8: 45 pm: Jeongin, Felix, and Changbin arrive at the van</p><p>9:15-10:00 pm: Search</p><p>10:30 pm: Arrive at Minho’s garage</p><p>11:20 pm: Arrive home</p><p>Saturday</p><p>1:00 am: TWICE arrive w/ Chan</p><p>7:00 pm: Chan is notified about disappearance</p><p>9:00 pm: YK arrives w/ Jihyo and Jisung</p><p>11:30 pm: Police arrive and transfer to Ms. Na’s</p><p>Sunday</p><p>7:00 am: Wake up</p><p>Okay. It wasn’t perfect, but at least now he had a more complete picture of what was going on. </p><p>He tore the sheet with the timeline and his basic notes off and set it on the bed beside him. </p><p>Next he divided up Chan’s notes, dedicating a page to each statement or groups of statements. </p><p>Mole (ID and Buyers), House on Fire (date), Yeji, Latin. </p><p>He stared at it for a moment. </p><p>“Lix, do you have a laptop or a phone or something connected to the internet I can use to look some stuff up?” He asked, scratching out the Latin phrase and staring at it. </p><p>‘cum totum fecisse putas, latet anguis in herba’</p><p>Chan didn’t speak Latin. He spoke a little bit of Greek, but not Latin, so it must’ve been some kind of phrase or saying. Something he’d memorized. </p><p>“Ms. Na has a laptop; I could ask if we could borrow it.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’ll work. Thanks, Lix.” Jisung said distractedly.  </p><p>‘cum totum fecisse putas, latet anguis in herba’</p><p>Jisung certainly didn’t know Latin. </p><p>He decided to put that aside and look at the Mole paper. </p><p>It was one of six people. He could safely count himself and Chan out of the equation. </p><p>Minho. Changbin. Hyunjin. Felix. Seungmin. Jeongin. </p><p>He’d have to work without the leaked documents for the time being. Focus on narrowing it down logically. Deduce it Sherlock Holmes style. </p><p>To start, he wrote out the names from least to most likely based on the widest of nets. </p><p>It was difficult to be objective because (excluding Hyunjin), Jisung liked everyone, trusted them to some extent. </p><p>Felix soon came back with the laptop. </p><p>Jisung stuffed the list and the note under the pillow. </p><p>He hated not trusting Felix, but until he could conclusively say that Felix wasn’t the mole, he couldn’t confide</p><p>“Thanks again. I don’t think I need anything else so you don’t have to worry about jumping up again.” Jisung said, opening it up. </p><p>There was no password. Ms. Na would make a terrible mole. </p><p>“Okay, let’s figure out what this date means.” He murmured to himself, pulling up the search engine. </p><p>Assuming ‘House on Fire’ referred to the date, he typed in the date along with the phrase. </p><p>Immediately, a news article from 2015 popped up, dated for the 16th, the day after the date Chan had put down on the note. It made sense that the report would come out the next day. The picture attached showed an apartment building on fire with the tagline ’13 dead and 10 injured in apartment blaze’. If this was what Chan was referring to, why did he want Jisung to know about it?</p><p>He clicked into the article. </p><p>It detailed an apartment fire that had happened on the 15th. All pretty standard reporting as far as tragedies went. Hit all the boxes. It had death. It had orphans. It had faulty electrical. It had  incompetence and oversight. It was what should have been the biggest disaster story of the year. Should have been what everyone talked about.</p><p>But it wasn’t. </p><p>Looking at the hits the page received, and the lack of other articles on the subject, it seemed that nobody really cared. Or they just forgot. </p><p>It took him a moment to realize why, as he flicked through archived news footage about the fire. </p><p>“The blaze raged on for about four hours before it was gotten under control. Moving on to a breaking new story out of Malaysia. A fifteen year old boy was found chained up in a room sealed up with plaster, left for dead by the relatives that adopted him five years previous-“</p><p>Jisung clicked out quickly, his heartrate doubling. </p><p>June 2015. </p><p>That was around when his story broke in the Korean media. </p><p>He’d overshadowed this tragedy. </p><p>His own feelings of guilt aside, why would Chan send him down this chase? </p><p>Yeji was listed right after. </p><p>She was adopted by Park Jinyoung. The last of the family. And Jisung knew it had happened when she’d been older.</p><p>Maybe…</p><p>He added Hwang Yeji to the search perimeters. </p><p>There it was. </p><p>“Why are you looking at a 2015 apartment fire?” Felix asked, sliding over to look over Jisung’s shoulder. “Aren’t you looking for Hyunjin or something?”</p><p>“I think I found him.” Jisung said. “Or rather, him before we knew him.”</p><p>He turned the screen to Felix, giving him time to read what he’d pulled up. </p><p>“Twin siblings Hwang Yeji and Hyunjin, 15, were the last survivors pulled out from the rubble after the building’s structural support collapsed.” He whispered as he read along. “Does that mean…?”</p><p>“Hyunjin and Yeji are biological siblings.” Jisung supplied, opening some new tabs to follow the rabbit hole he’d been given. “Their parents were employees for JYP Enterprises, so Park Jinyoung knew the family well enough. Next report about Yeji is when Park Jinyoung adopts her about two months later. Hyunjin drops off the public record.”</p><p>“They were both fifteen, so they know about each other. So, why didn’t Hyunjin say anything?” Felix asked quietly. “It seems like something we should know.”</p><p>“Maybe he didn’t want people to get the wrong idea. I don’t pretend to know Hwang Hyunjin.”</p><p>“And why would he side against his sister?”</p><p>“She got a silver platter. And he was left in the dust.” Jisung murmured. “Left to fend for himself. There might be some resentment lingering there.” </p><p>Perhaps Hyunjin was the mole. He had a contact with someone in the family, a close connection to them, which would be a good motive for betrayal. But it didn’t feel right. No matter how much Jisung disliked him.</p><p>If there was resentment, he wouldn’t work for her, and if there wasn’t why would he sell it to her and to others freely? If they were truly working together, there was no animosity, then Hyunjin would just give it to her, just her, not to two other sources. That would defeat the purpose. And if he was, why would he disappear then? The gala had just been a preliminary practice round. To see if they worked together. It would make more sense to stay around for the grand finale, when the stakes were higher and the info was better. </p><p>Hyunjin was smart. It seemed out of character for someone with that much knowledge of the trade to take off when it was just getting good. And he wouldn’t get caught doing it. </p><p>Still, couldn’t rule him out. Just move him lower down the list. </p><p>“So, is that what Chan told you about?” Felix asked. </p><p>“Partly.” Jisung answered in a favored beat-around-the-bush tactic that he favored when telling mistruths.</p><p>Time for some Latin. </p><p>Running a quick translation brought him to a page describing how the phrase had come over to England, first heard in one of Vergil’s works. It roughly translated to ‘though the field looks clean, a snake lurks in the grass’. A proverb for people’s outward performance being a mask for a more deceptive intentions. </p><p>It probably related to the mole then. Added last minute. </p><p>But why, Jisung already knew that the mole was bad. That it was a person playing to their better natures</p><p>So, why add it? What was Chan trying to say?</p><p>“Latin? What are you looking at Latin for?” </p><p>“Chan likes to give me brain games every time he leaves me a note.” Jisung muttered. </p><p>If it was referring to the mole, added to the end, what more did he want Jisung to know?</p><p>It suddenly occurred to him, that maybe Chan didn’t need him to figure out who the mole was because he’d already figured it out. He was just trying to tell him subtly. </p><p>Snake in the grass. </p><p>Snake in the grass. </p><p>Snake…he couldn’t mean?</p><p>That was way too simple. Too obvious. But if it was true, it would fit like a glove.</p><p>“Hey, Lix, weird question.” Jisung said. “What’s your birthday?”</p><p>“September 15th, 2000, why?”</p><p>Jisung chuckled slightly, his mind momentarily taken off course by the response. “Mine is the 14th.”</p><p>“No, shit.” Felix said, his face breaking into a disbelieving smile. “We’re almost twins then.”</p><p>2000.</p><p>“Just shy.” Jisung said. “And Jeongin is younger than us, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, said he was born in 2001. What’s all this about birthdays?”</p><p>“Just a…thing. Nothing important, I just like to know.”</p><p>His heart was beating anxiously in his chest as he hopped over to the search engine once more.</p><p>A few keyboard strokes later and he had his answer. </p><p>2001. Year of the Snake.</p><p>Snake in the grass. That had to be it. </p><p>There was no other person Chan could’ve meant when he wrote it. </p><p>Jeongin was the mole. He’d sold them out. </p><p>He didn’t know why. But at least he knew who it was, and who he could trust. </p><p>Hopefully Chan was right. </p><p>God, he hoped Chan was right. That Jisung was following the correct breadcrumb trail down the correct rabbit hole. </p><p>“Chan said we need to go find Yeji.” Jisung said, trying to hide the tremble in his voice as he cleared the history and closed the laptop. “Chan thinks Yeji might be looking for Hyunjin too. That if we find her, maybe she can help us. Or we can help her.” </p><p>“The apartment is swarming with cops right now, up and down the hallway. We’ll have to wait.”</p><p>Damn it. </p><p>“No time.” Jisung decided. “I guess we’ll see if watching all of those dramas helped my acting skills.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There we go. Hope everyone is enjoying this...</p><p>Side bit: but I would be remiss if I didn't promote my ult girl group's recent comeback at least a little bit. DC is back with 'Odd Eye' and it is incredible, as are all the B-sides on the album. Go check it out if you haven't, hopefully they can get their first win!</p><p>That said, have a good weekend and I'll be back again next week with a new chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Tracking Down Leads and the Art of Lying</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jisung and Felix get out of the house for a while</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In Jisung’s experience, the best way to stay hidden was to not look like you were hiding. </p><p>So, instead of sneaking out the door, he decided to walk out. </p><p>And it worked, no one stopped him on the way to the elevator, in fact, one of the officers even held the doors for him. </p><p>Felix was not doing well in the way of looking not suspicious. But if it came down to it, Jisung could always lie and say Felix was a foreign exchange student. </p><p>Problem solved.</p><p>“So, you kids live across the way there?” The officer asked casually as they went down. </p><p>“No, we were just staying with my aunt for a couple nights. Nasty family drama. Needed a quiet place to study.” Jisung replied.</p><p>Conversation was easier when he was anyone but himself. A character. And these were just lines. A made-up story. </p><p>Thankfully, Felix had made sure that Ms. Na knew that they were her ‘nephews’, in case anyone asked. He didn’t know if they would, but it was good to keep all of his bases covered just in case.</p><p>“Ah, say no more.” The officer said. “I can understand that. So, you heading home now?”</p><p>“No, school, starts in about an hour and we need to catch a bus if we’re going to make it on time.” Jisung said. </p><p>He figured, they weren’t looking for two school aged kids, and there were more legal loopholes to have to jump through to question minors. And it gave them a place to be that wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows. </p><p>“Oh, I forgot it was Monday. Time flies.” The officer chortled. “No uniform?”</p><p>“In our bags. I’ve had one too many incidents involving curb splashing to wear my uniform to school.” He laughed, shaking his head. “We usually change when we get there. Plus we have gym first period, so we’d just be changing out of them anyway.”</p><p>“Smart. I can appreciate that. Where do you go to school if you don’t mind me asking?”</p><p>“Chungdam.” </p><p>He’d done about two minutes of research while Felix and Ms. Na had been talking. </p><p>“That’s a good school.”</p><p>“So I’ve heard.” </p><p>It did have a good rating. </p><p>“Oh, here we are.” The officer exclaimed unnecessarily as the doors opened onto the ground floor. “Have a good day.”</p><p>“You too.” Jisung said to the officers retreating back before pulling Felix toward the back door, only to find it abuzz with what looked like a forensics team. </p><p>Not that way then. </p><p>Front door it was. </p><p>He wasn’t used to being the call-guy, the one who did the leading and made the decisions, and he couldn’t say he much liked it or was much good at it. </p><p>Throwing his arm around Felix, he made a show of turning his face away from the people working at the front desk, as if he were looking at something incredibly interesting. Cameras would catch him for sure, but at least the employees would have plausible deniability if questioned. He wasn’t one to make their lives more difficult than necessary. </p><p>In a few moments they were out the door and onto the street. </p><p>Part One: check. </p><p>Done. </p><p>What was next?</p><p>They needed a ride. </p><p>They needed to put as much distance between the hot-spot that was the apartment and themselves.</p><p>He didn’t have cash on him, and he didn’t want to pay with a card and have it come up, so a cab was off the table. Stealing a vehicle would bring too much heat, and the cops likely had the plate numbers for Chan and YoungK’s vehicles, so that was also a no. Plus, he didn’t exactly have a license, so if he got pulled over, it would be game over.</p><p>Did he know anybody not on the police’s radar that would be able to give him a lift?</p><p>He wracked his brains as they continued away from the apartment building. </p><p>He didn’t know many people aside from Chan. </p><p>Maybe that guy from the waffle place? He had a car. But Jisung didn’t know how to contact him. Or if he would help.</p><p>He didn’t even know where Yeji was. And he doubted she would be happy anyway if he knew and brought one of JB’s crew to her doorstep.</p><p>Maybe he could look extra vulnerable and get kidnapped again. Unfortunately he didn’t think his nerves could handle much more of that. </p><p>Or he could test his luck even more than he already was. </p><p>He stopped a random stranger as they passed by, letting the adrenaline act before he had the chance to let the anxiety coursing inside him control him. </p><p>“Excuse me.” He said. “Can I borrow your phone? Please?”</p><p>The stranger said no. </p><p>But three strangers later his social battery was drained, but he had a phone. </p><p>He just needed someone to call. </p><p>“I know someone, can give us a ride.” Felix said, beckoning for Jisung to hand the device over. “Trust me?”</p><p>Jisung handed the phone over, too mentally exhausted to resist even if he had thought to do so. </p><p>In a matter of seconds, the other end of the line had picked up. </p><p>“Hey, Eric, yeah, it’s me, Felix.” Felix said in English. “Yeah, it’s been a while. Listen, I need a favor. A friend and I are in a bit of a scrape. We need a ride and a place to lie low for a while. Think you can help us out?”</p><p>He listened for a moment, biting his lip and nodding even though ‘Eric’, whoever that was, couldn’t see him.</p><p>“Great, we’ll meet him there. Thanks so much.” Felix concluded, hanging up, erasing the call from the phone and handing it back to the stranger. “There’s a bookstore about two blocks from here. Our ride will meet us there.”</p><p>Okay, then. </p><p>And Felix lead the way. </p><p>The ended up in a small, privately owned bookstore on the quieter side of this particular neighborhood of Gangnam. Tea and coffee were served, along with some light baked goods, and people sat at small tables stacked with magazines and books between long and tall shelves. </p><p>It was very cozy, and made Jisung feel at least a little bit relaxed, even after the events of the last couple days. </p><p>Jisung’s stomach gurgled loudly. </p><p>He hadn’t eaten since he’d been at Young K’s apartment. So, about eighteen hours or so? God, he was hungry. But with no money, they couldn’t buy anything to eat. </p><p>So, they took a seat in the back of the shop, a wall behind them to keep the potential surprises to a minimum. </p><p>“So…” Jisung said, the lack of motion or busyness allowing for the nerves to settle back into his body, and the pain to throb insistently just above his hip. “Who should I be looking for?”</p><p>“A friend of Eric’s.” Felix said.</p><p>“Eric? Should I know him?”</p><p>Felix laughed. “No, sorry, he was a roommate of sorts after I was put on Chan’s payroll. After I got out of…well, you know.”</p><p>He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes glancing down at the floor.</p><p> “Um…anyway, it was a group of us. Foreigners. All stuck for one reason or another. We all shared rent on an apartment. People came and went as needed, but there were always four or five of us there. Not much, but it was safe and it was home.” Felix continued. “When I moved out, they said if I needed anything, I could always call. They offered to help me move, but I-“</p><p>He stopped short, taking a long deep breath. </p><p>“I’ve been burned before. With nothing to fall back on.” He said. “I hoped it wouldn’t be the case, but I had the naivety I came here with knocked out of me, so I didn’t want to risk exposing what could be a safety net if this all ended up going wrong.”</p><p>To be perfectly honest, after the shock faded away, Jisung was a little betrayed that Felix hadn’t confided in them. But that quickly fizzled out into guilt for having felt that. They were all messed up in one way or another. Even Felix, though it was hard to remember through his seemingly infinite aura of positivity, had been hurt before this. They all had their damage. Some were just better at masking their scars than others. </p><p>And Jisung could understand having secrets; secrets made you feel safe. Like there was at least one thing that the world couldn’t touch, and therefore couldn’t break. Secrets were the only power the weak had in a world that could pin them to the floor and take what it wanted from them. Sometimes that secret was all that kept a powerless person alive. </p><p>It had been for Jisung. A secret place in his head, built up brick by brick out of necessity. A story that he kept adding to every night, and every time he felt as though he might just get swallowed up by it all. That secret was a fortress that took the brunt of the abuse. Nothing could break down those walls. Not famine, or drought, or captivity, or assault. </p><p>Nothing. </p><p>He still sometimes went back to that place, that fortress, when it all got to be too much. Dust off the battlements and hunker down until he felt safe enough to come out again. </p><p>A therapist would call that a coping mechanism. Jisung didn’t care what it was called, so long as it worked. </p><p>“Well, I’ll be damned.”</p><p>Jisung looked up and didn’t immediately recognize the person standing in front of them. </p><p>The man was about average height with bleached blond hair and a narrow face. </p><p>“Mark?” Felix said, sliding down from his chair. </p><p>“You didn’t say you were working with Chan’s crew.” ‘Mark’ said, pulling Felix into a hug. </p><p>“Nobody asked.” Felix said, almost cheekily. “It’s not my fault you told me where you went.”</p><p>Mark… </p><p>Mark.</p><p>Was he supposed to know who that was?</p><p>“Are you back at the apartment?”</p><p>“Yeah, more or less.” Mark replied. “I just have some last minute things to attend to before I can finally head back to the States. Minnie said that I could crash there until I needed to leave.”</p><p>“You’re leaving?”</p><p>“Not the place to talk shop, kiddo.” Mark said, affectionately ruffling Felix’s hair. </p><p>“Who all is still there?”</p><p>“Minnie, Eric, obviously, Sorn, me, and Yuqi.”</p><p>“Josh is gone?”</p><p>“Yeah, bastard went and got promoted.” Mark chuffed. “Now he wears a fancy suit and sells pearls for old women to clutch and 17 carat diamond rings for CEOs on their fifth wife. He’s doing well for himself.”</p><p>“Good for him.” Felix said. “I’ll miss him though.”</p><p>“So, this is the friend I’m supposed to be picking up? Chan’s sidekick.”</p><p>Oh, they were talking about him now. </p><p>“If you’re heading back to the States, it shouldn’t matter who he is, or who he’s affiliated with.” Felix said, raising his eyebrows challengingly. “Because if you’re heading back after nearly ten years, it means that you no longer need to worry about who is affiliated with whom.”</p><p>“Fair enough. Fair enough.” Mark said, holding his hands up in surrender, a smirk pulling at his lips. “C’mon, kiddo, and friend of kiddo, let’s get out of here. Are you hungry? I’m hungry. We can grab some food on the way back.”</p><p>Soon enough, Jisung was in the backseat of a fairly sleek vehicle, he guessed from his limited knowledge of luxury cars. Felix was up front in the passenger’s seat beside whoever this Mark person was. </p><p>“Now that we’re not in public, care to tell me why you’re flying solo, Tuan?”</p><p>Mark Tuan. </p><p>Still didn’t ring a bell. </p><p>“JB let us go.” Mark said simply. </p><p>JB. </p><p>So, he worked for Chan’s brother. </p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“SM and YG joined the fight. That was a losing battle, and he wasn’t going to make us pawns in a suicide mission. He knew we’d be as good as dead if we stayed with him, so he let us go.” Mark said stiffly, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter as his eyes remained fixed on the road. “Covered our tracks and made sure we could disappear. He knew he was the real target, so he made sure that he would be the one everyone would go after.”</p><p>“Jesus.” Felix whispered. </p><p>That about summed it up. </p><p>“Yeah, Jinyoung wouldn’t leave, none of us wanted to, but Jinyoung was with him the longest. Jaebeom put a gun to his own head and told us if we didn’t take the money he’d given us and leave, he’d blow his brains out right there.” Mark said bitterly. “We all left.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry.” </p><p>“Yeah, well, when JB puts his foot down, there are no questions asked. In his own stupid way, he cares about us. To the point of self-destruction. Dramatic fucker.”</p><p>Jisung wondered distantly whether Chan knew about what was going on in the other parts of their unusual family. Probably not. This seemed to be a recent development. And the recent development of their own, namely evading the law and most of their team ending up in police custody, wasn’t conducive to other bits of family gossip.</p><p>“So, what’s got you on the run, Lix?”</p><p>“Who says I’m running?”</p><p>“You’re coming back to us.” Mark said simply. “We are a group exclusively of runaways. Those who get settled leave. And those who start running again always come back. It’s what we do. We’re a very predictable breed.”</p><p>“I’m looking for someone.” Felix said. “A friend, who’s gone missing a day or so ago. I was hoping that I might be able to meet someone who could help us find him.”</p><p>“Does either someone have a name?”  Mark asked. “Perhaps I could help in tracking them down.”</p><p>Felix looked back at Jisung. </p><p>It didn’t really matter. </p><p>He shrugged. </p><p>“Our friend’s name is Hwang Hyunjin and we’re looking for Hwang Yeji.” Felix said. </p><p>“Why do you think Yeji will be able to help?”</p><p>“Because Hyunjin is her brother. Her biological brother.” Jisung answered dryly. </p><p>“Shit, wait, are you serious?” Mark asked, taking a turn a bit faster than was probably recommended. “She has a brother that’s still alive.”</p><p>“Most of them still have family alive.” Jisung said, thinking back to something Chan had mentioned briefly once. “Chan’s biological parents are still alive, or they were when everything went down. They just weren’t allowed to talk about their lives before JYP adopted them.”</p><p>“It makes sense. I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised.” Mark conceded. “But I think I can help you. At least partially. Since that incident with Jihyo, they’ll have gone to ground to wait out the aftershocks. But luckily for you, I have connections. And some of Yeji’s associates have social lives, which is more than I can say for most of the rest of the people that associate with that family.” </p><p>“Well?”</p><p>“Might be a bit of a stretch. More like six degrees of separation really. I know Minnie, met through BamBam, but that’s not relevant, who is friends with this social media influencer called Sorn, who has a roommate, an up and coming actress named Elkie, think of them as like us but with a Gucci belt.” He directed toward Felix. “Anyway, following Elkie’s social media, she’s friends with Tzuyu, works for Jihyo, but also a woman named Handong. Handong is roommates with a woman, a model, named Kim Minji.”</p><p>This was getting a bit long winded. </p><p>“Anyway, Kim Minji is close friends with Shin Ryujin, one of Yeji’s associates.”</p><p>That was pretty close to six though. But Jisung couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take to be able to get through that chain of connection. If they could do so at all.</p><p>“It was my job to keep track of things.” Mark said. “And I did have some free time and some boredom.” </p><p>“So, how are we supposed to use this?”</p><p>“Go to Minji’s Instagram account, see her latest post. Read it to me.”</p><p>He passed a phone over to Felix. </p><p>Felix tapped around for a bit. “Got it. Caption is: Bright and Early, keep an eye out.”</p><p>“So, she’s got a shoot today.” Mark said to himself. “Does she have any recent endorsements?”</p><p>Another minute. “Yeah, a make-up brand. Insomnia Cosmetics. Wait, she’s doing a live!”</p><p>“Let’s hear it.”</p><p>Soon a bright female voice filled the interior of the car. </p><p>“Looks like enough people have hopped on now. Hi! It’s JiU, here on the set of a new shoot for my collaboration with Insomnia Cosmetics. I can’t wait for you all to see everything, I think you’ll love it. Oh, wait, here’s the creator of Insomnia, Lee Siyeon- wait, no, come back, you have to say ‘hi’ to everyone!”</p><p>It went on from there, Minji teasing whoever this Siyeon person was. Bickering back and forth. </p><p>“Okay, she’s on a shoot. There’s quite a few studios in the city that could be used.” Mark kept on talking to himself. “Is it a commercial shoot or a photography shoot?”</p><p>“It looks like a commercial shoot. They seem to be on a large soundstage.” Felix replied. “Cameras are film cameras too.”</p><p>“Good, anything else? That’s still a bit of a wide search perimeter.”</p><p>“If only we had Jeongin around, he’s insane with this stuff.” Felix said.</p><p>Jisung turned his gaze out the window, not wanting Felix to see his expression in the mirror and read his guilt.</p><p>“Um…it looks like the people on the crew have a uniform with a logo. Wait, I’ll screenshot it so I can zoom in.”</p><p>It was so weird watching Felix and Mark track down someone’s location together. The way they worked together in tandem was incredible, almost not needing to speak aloud. </p><p>“Looks like it’s an Ivory Tower Production’s logo.” Felix said after a long pause. “Do you know it?”</p><p>“Yeah, I know it.”</p><p>Mark mulled that information over, making a wildly unsafe turn at high speed. </p><p>“Any good at acting?” He asked suddenly.</p><p>They both shook their heads. </p><p>“Well, you’re going to have to be. It’s fairly easy to get on those sets, so long as you don’t look like a creep.” Mark explained. “Somebody takes her phone. I break into it. Get Ryujin’s number, hopefully. You two plead your case. Maybe you get to Yeji, maybe you don’t. Either way, I’m heading back to the apartment.”</p><p>Felix looked back at Jisung. </p><p>It wasn’t exactly a fool-proof plan but it was better than the steaming pile of nothing they’d had before. </p><p>“Let’s do it then.” Jisung said quietly.</p><p>He hoped he wouldn’t regret it. </p><p>“There should be a high school photo of Ryujin saved under ‘ITZY’ in my files, it was the last known photo I could find of her when I was looking into the group.” Mark instructed. “Know who you’re looking for. Also, show your little friend some of Minji’s posts so he’s got some idea too.”</p><p>Felix started right away, holding the photos up for Jisung to see once he found them. </p><p>Minji was a tall and naturally very beautiful woman, currently sporting purple hair judging by the most recent update. Apparently she had a dog named Cherry as well. </p><p>And Ryujin looked like a normal girl. There was no other way to put it. She looked like a regular student. Jisung wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting her to look like. </p><p>They arrived at a studio after about half an hour- adding in a stop for some food in the middle- that looked about like Jisung expected a filming studio to look like. Very boring on the outside. </p><p>Mark somehow managed to find a parking spot on the street. A miracle for which Jisung could not fathom. Maybe he just radiated luck the way Jisung radiated misfortune. </p><p>Looking down at what he was wearing, tennis shoes and tee shirt, and knowing that his hair was not brushed, Jisung wondered how on earth he was supposed to fit in on this set. </p><p>“Grab one of the boxes from the back and follow my lead.” Mark said, unbuckling and getting out of the car. </p><p>He popped the trunk before Jisung had even started moving. </p><p>Getting out of the car, a box was shoved in his arms, and then another one was handed to Felix. </p><p>Jisung blinked rapidly, clearing the spots from his vision and securing his balance again. </p><p>And they were off. </p><p>Like little ducklings, Felix and Jisung trailed along behind Mark, hoping that he knew what he was doing. </p><p>They headed around the side of the building to an open loading door, where Mark picked up his step, sounding out of breath even though he had been running for about a second. Following his lead, Jisung imitated. </p><p>“What are you doing?” A gruff voice said as they approached. </p><p>They stopped in their tracks, Jisung nearly losing his footing, a sharp pain shooting up his side. He smothered down a grimace for the sake of the performance.</p><p>It was a burly looking guy that looked like he belonged on the set of an action movie</p><p>“Interns. Started last week.” Mark said easily. “Mr. Kim sent us to pick some stuff up from his home office earlier, but now the front door is locked and they never issued us badges yet.”</p><p>“Mr. Kim.” The gruff man said slowly. </p><p>Come on, it was the most common surname in Korea, there had to be one somewhere on the property. </p><p>“As in the head of janitorial, or the one in charge of IT.”</p><p>“IT, well, I work for the Mr. Kim in IT.” Mark explained. “I just dragged them along to help me carry.”</p><p>The man furrowed his brows. </p><p>“They sure are hiring people left and right. I can’t keep track of everyone around here.” He said finally. “Go on. But be sure to request those security badges as soon as possible. Not everyone is going to be nice enough to let you in the back.”</p><p>“Thank you so much.” Mark said, dipping his head politely. </p><p>Jisung and Felix followed suit, muttering almost imperceptible words to the like. </p><p>He could not believe that this was actually working. </p><p>They had gotten into the building. </p><p>Now to find the stage where Minji was shooting. </p><p>It turned out that Mark’s luck was contagious because they’d only been in the building a minute or so before a tall woman who looked to be in charge of something walked up to them with an urgent cadence to her step. </p><p>“Excuse me, this part of the building is being deep cleaned, you shouldn’t be here.” She said sternly. “It was in the email sent out this morning. Only Studio D is in use today.”</p><p>“Yes, of course. My apologies, we were just bring up a delivery from the loading bay.” Mark said, sounding nervous. “It was supposed to be quick, and I thought maybe the cleaning team would be gone for lunch, so it might be alright.”</p><p>She looked up at the ceiling, mouthing something silently. </p><p>“More pretty boys with no brains. What I get for putting Youngjun in charge of selecting interns. At least you’re polite.” She muttered. “Follow me so no one else scolds you for being here.”</p><p>“Thank you, ma’am.” </p><p>As they followed the woman, Mark looked back at them and winked. </p><p>Jisung wondered how many times Mark had done this and gotten away with it. He seemed frighteningly good at it. What had Mark’s job been when working with Jaebeom? He mentioned keeping charge of contacts and ‘things’, but he was way too good for that to have been the sole service he had provided to Jaebeom.</p><p>He also wondered if he was included in the phrase ‘pretty boys with no brains’. Also, whether he should be offended or flattered by the comment. </p><p>They followed the woman silently, not daring to say anything and potentially shatter the good-luck streak they had going for them thus far.</p><p>“I suppose you’ll need the key to the offices to drop off those boxes, so you can come with me. I’ll unlock the doors for you.” She said after a while as they passed a sign directing them toward the stage. </p><p>“Oh, um, yes. Why don’t you two give me the boxes and you can head back to the shoot?” Mark said. </p><p>“Give one of them to me, I can help carry.” The woman said, beckoning Felix to hand his box over at the same time Jisung was setting his own on top of the one Mark was already holding.</p><p>Mark nodded and Felix handed it over. </p><p>“Okay, I trust you two can make it to the soundstage without my help.” She said. </p><p>“Mark?” Felix asked quietly when there were no directions.</p><p>“Go ahead, I’ll find you guys when I’m done with this.” He said warmly, though his eyes were insistent. </p><p>“Mark-“</p><p>“Go.” Mark said again.</p><p>And just like that, Mark was gone, following the woman further down the hall.</p><p>They were on their own again. </p><p>Jisung’s body hadn’t yet calmed down. His hands were still trembling and his knees were weak. The injury to his side was reminding him with every movement that it was still there, just when he thought he might be able to block it out. </p><p>“Sung?” Felix said, his brows furrowed. . “You look really pale. And you’re sweating like mad. You should sit down for a bit.”</p><p> “No.” Jisung said stubbornly. </p><p>He needed to get this phone. He needed to get to Yeji. He needed to do what Chan had asked of him. He couldn’t fail. Not again. He’d already caused a mess by being stupid enough to get caught, and that had gotten him hurt, pushing more of a burden onto his already overloaded leader. </p><p>He needed to do this. </p><p>“You can rest. You’re no good if you pass out in the studio.” Felix implored. </p><p>“No, I’ve got to do this. We could miss our chance sitting out here.” He said, trying to take a step. </p><p>His legs gave out beneath him. </p><p>“Jisung!”</p><p>He was fine. He was fine. </p><p>He needed to do this. </p><p>“Help me up.”</p><p>“No.” Felix said, his voice trembling slightly. </p><p>“Felix-“</p><p>“No, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t watch you kill yourself just to prove something you don’t need to prove!” Felix said forcefully. “Everyone on this fucking team thinks that the only way they can have worth is to bury themselves alive. I’ve watched Chan do it after almost fucking dying from an overdose. I’ve watched Minho get negative hours of sleep the past couple of nights because he thinks he doesn’t do enough for the team. And Changbin thinks he subtle, but I know that he’s been out more then he’s been in because he seems to think somehow if he stops moving he’ll be wasting time. Seungmin has been living on coffee and adrenaline for the past couple nights, keeping everyone alive, while also going to classes and doing the fuck-ton of classwork because if he lets up on something he’ll feel useless. And Jeongin has been practically connected to a power outlet. And now you…barely taking a breath after being fucking stabbed and you’ve kept pushing until now, where you’ve collapsed. Nobody seems to fucking get that they’re human. And they have limits.”</p><p>He was out of breath, but he kept going anyway. Like a barrage of truth that Jisung didn’t want to hear. </p><p>“Hyunjin is gone. And so is Chan. And none of it is your fault. It’s nobody’s fault. Multiple things can be true at the same time. Not every commonality equals causality, Jisung. You aren’t the common denominator.” Felix’s voice was quickly fracturing. “It’s easy to blame yourself. Some people seem to think it’s this noble quality, but it’s not. It’s just as selfish as never holding yourself accountable. It’s harder to admit that there was nothing you could do…that it’s not your fault.”</p><p>“Stop trying to psychoanalyze me, Lix.” Jisung said through gritted teeth. </p><p>“If you can’t do this for yourself. If you want to be a fucking saint, then just do it for me. Pretend it’s some noble selfless thing, a charitable act, if that’s what it takes for you to slow down, for you not to fucking kill yourself, I don’t care.” Felix said, kneeling down in front of Jisung, his eyes glistening with tears. “Do it for me if you have to, but please just take a breath, slow down. Rest. I can get the phone. Please, just…do it for me, Sungie.”</p><p>Jisung squeezed his eyes shut, not sure if he was fighting back tears of frustration or tears from the pain. </p><p>“And I thought Minho swore a lot.” He said. “But, Jesus, you’re blowing him out of the water.”</p><p>“Pent up angst.” Felix said, clearly trying not to smile. “So?”</p><p>Jisung sighed shakily, looking up at Felix again. “Fine, I’ll stay put. But if you are longer than ten minutes, I’m coming after you, got it?”</p><p>Seriously, Felix’s smile could power a city it was that bright. </p><p>“Aye, aye, captain.” He said with a mock salute. “I’ll be back before you know it. Let me help you get settled.”</p><p>Once Felix was sure that Jisung was seated, and wasn’t going to go anywhere, he headed off toward Studio D. </p><p>Jisung took long and slow deep breaths, each inhale pulling at his side making it feel as though someone was pushing their fingers into the wound. His head fell back against the cinderblock walls, the chill radiating off of them and somewhat relieving the feeling of his head overheating. </p><p>Maybe Felix was right. He probably was. He never shouted. Ever, in the time Jisung had known him. People like that, in Jisung’s experience, only raised their voice when the meant it, when they’d been thinking about it for a long time. </p><p>“You good, bro, or do you need to be taken to a hospital?”</p><p>Jisung startled. </p><p>He hadn’t heard anyone approach. </p><p>“No, no hospital. I’m fine.” He muttered. </p><p>He’d had enough hospital related trauma in the past forty-eight hours to last him a long-ass time. </p><p>Then he looked up. </p><p>A girl around his own age, with blue hair, stood above him, her face familiar. Because it was the face he’d been shown in the car on the way over here. </p><p>Shin Ryujin.</p><p>No fucking way. </p><p>Well, it seemed Mark’s luck was contagious after all. </p><p>“You look like you just came back from the dead, my dude.”</p><p>“I-I’m fine. I just got a little light headed so I had to sit down for a bit.” He said rapidly, trying to figure out how he could possibly broch the necessary subject without sounding like a deranged stalker. “So, why are you here?”</p><p>“Meeting a friend for lunch. She’s here for a shoot. You?”</p><p>“Trying to find a friend of mine. I’ve been trying to track him down, but I sort of hit a dead end here.” </p><p>“What’s your friend’s name? Maybe I know him?” She asked. </p><p>“Hwang Hyunjin.” Jisung answered. “He’s been missing since the night before last.”</p><p>“How do you know Hwang Hyunjin?” She asked, her voice making a good show of being unphased. </p><p>“We worked together with Bang Chan.” He said. “They share a commonality. As do you. See, Bang Chan has four adopted siblings. One of which is Hwang Yeji, who happens to be the biological twin sister of Hwang Hyunjin. Whom you work alongside.”</p><p>She took a step back, reaching for something from her back pocket. Likely something that would end up unaliving him if he ended up making the wrong move. </p><p>“Who are you?”</p><p>“I’m Han Jisung.” He said, pushing himself to his feet. “I haven’t been following you and I don’t mean any harm to anyone. I just have reason to believe that Yeji might be able to help me find Hyunjin. That’s all.”</p><p>“How did you know I would be here?”</p><p>He raised his hands up slowly, spreading his fingers to show he had nothing to hide. “I didn’t. It was just happenstance. To be perfectly transparent, we were here in the hopes of getting a number from your friend, Minji, in order to be able to contact you and then maybe have a chance at being able to meet Yeji. It is no intention, and has been no intention, of mine to hurt you, and certainly not to hurt Kim Minji.”</p><p>“How did you know about Minji?”</p><p>“Mark. Mark Tuan, works with-“</p><p>“JB, I know. Why is he helping you?” She asked, her gaze narrowed. </p><p>“He’s an old friend of Felix’s and JB has pushed his team out. JB no longer has intentions to fight, just to ensure that his team escapes the city.” Jisung said. “With YG and SM now in the fight for JYP’s top spot, he figured it would be a suicide mission to try and fight on three fronts.”</p><p>“And where is Chan?”</p><p>“Arrested. Along with most of our team, some of Jihyo’s people, and Young K.” He said, clenching his jaw. “I’m sure you have ways of figuring out whether I’m telling the truth or not.”</p><p>Ryujin was silent, as though trying to read his face and body to gauge the truth. </p><p>“We’re looking for Hyunjin already, there’s no need for you to come in.”</p><p>“Please, he’s our teammate.” Jisung said, not even sure why he was fighting so hard for someone he didn’t even like. </p><p>Perhaps those small moments at the gala had cut deeper than he’d thought. Or he felt some sort of debt for Hyunjin stepping in to protect him when Choi Ilsung had gotten him alone. What might’ve happened if Hyunjin hadn’t been there. </p><p>“And we have information that might be helpful. Times and locations. Stuff like that. Please.”</p><p>“’We?’”</p><p>“Felix. He’s here too.” Jisung said. “I can’t force you to help us. But I am asking…I’m begging you to let us find our friend.”</p><p>For a moment, Jisung thought Ryujin was going to say ‘no’. But instead she nodded curtly. </p><p>“Under one condition,” She amended. “You are blindfolded on the way there and once you are there; you follow our rules.”</p><p>If this was what had to be done…Jisung would find a way to live with it.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>His vision was starting to blur again.</p><p>“Jesus, you’re bleeding.”</p><p>“I’m fine.” He said, forcing the words through his unwilling lips. </p><p>But he couldn’t even resist Ryujin tugging his arm over her shoulder, though the physical contact was doing nothing to aid in his surging nausea. He could feel the hem of his shirt being pulled up his left side.</p><p>“We need to get you treatment now. It looks like you’ve torn your stitches.” She said. “We need to go.”</p><p>“Felix-“</p><p>“I’ll call Minji when we’re in the car. Hopefully she’ll be able to track him down for you.” Ryujin grunted, heaving him down the hall. </p><p>That would have to do, Jisung just couldn’t really get enough energy up to reply in either the affirmative or the negative.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Jailhouse Blues and Making a Well Timed Exit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Chan and Detective Oh have a long overdue chat and things end up going right...for once</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The police station was a very bland building if Chan was honest. Maybe that’s because he’d been in an interrogation room for most of that time, with only himself to look at in the two way mirror in front of him. There was no clock so he couldn’t gauge how long it had been. He supposed this was a way to get him to talk to them, that and how fucking cold it was. Cold breeds truth, so he’d need to be good at his lies. He would have brought a coat if he’d known it would be colder in the police station than it was outside. His fingers were starting to go numb. </p><p>In the end, packing the bags had been in vain. Felix had gotten Jisung to Ms. Na’s just moments before the detectives had arrived on their floor. It was regretful, only because now it appeared as if they were running. That was his mistake.</p><p>He’d made his phone call when he’d first arrived, however long ago that had been. It was to the only other number he kept in his phone at all times. The message had been brief, but he hoped it would prove effective. </p><p>Eventually the door opened, and the manifestation of the royal pain in his backside walked in. Chan forced himself not to lean toward the warmth floating in through the door.</p><p>Fucking finally. </p><p>“Hello, detective. Have a nice night?”</p><p>“It’s been better since now I’ve got you here.” Detective Oh said as he shut the door.</p><p>“I’m flattered.”</p><p>“So, Bang Chan. Also known as Christopher Bang, born in Seoul, moved to Sydney, Australia about a year later and lived there for about twelve years.” Detective Oh said, slapping a file down on the table for emphasis as he took a seat across from Chan. “And somehow, you end up adopted by one of the wealthiest men in the city and are named partial heir to his company and fortune. There’s no death certificate for your parents, so it seems they voluntarily surrendered their eldest child. Why would they do that?”</p><p>“I can’t speak to the thought process of my parents, Detective.” Chan said coolly, folding his hands on top of the table, as far as the cuffs that held him there would allow. “You’d have to speak to them.”</p><p>“I intend to, don’t you worry.” The detective continued. </p><p>“Why are you holding me?” Chan said. “This seems irrelevant for what you seem to think I’ve done.”</p><p> “You’re here in connection to the disappearances of Judge Choi Ilsung and that of Mr. Jung Sanghoon, your family’s lawyer.”</p><p>“Then why don’t you ask me about that? Since you seem to have convinced yourself that I’m involved.” </p><p>Detective Oh clamped his teeth together, grinding them so loudly that Chan could hear. </p><p>Good, so he’d gotten under his skin. </p><p>Chan unzipped the trademark family smile, warm and friendly, it was almost more infuriating than a smirk. He’d been on the receiving end enough times to know that much. </p><p>“So, Detective, how may I help you?” He asked. “That is, if you’re done questioning my lineage.”</p><p>“You act like you’re above it all, but I know you.” The detective snarled. “I know what you are under those layers of designer clothes.”</p><p>“Naked?” He replied, quirking a brow. “Well, detective, I’m flattered, but I’m not pursuing a relationship at the moment. I’m sure you understand. Handling the family affairs and all after my father’s death has been quite the burden. By the way, are you any closer to finding out who did that? Or have you been so busy chasing down a grudge that you’ve turned a blind eye to your duties, detective?”</p><p>As expected, Detective Oh lunged across the table, grappling for Chan’s collar, pulling him nose to nose. </p><p>“Do I infuriate you that much, detective?” Chan said coyly, trying not to recoil from the man’s breath that smelled of smoke and stale coffee. “I must say, that is never my intentions. Burned bridges make for bad diplomacy, you know. How long is it since you’ve had a good night’s sleep? You look tired. Coffee and nicotine can only do so much.”</p><p>“You like to think you’re smarter than everyone, but I knew you would slip up.” He said darkly. “That’s why you’re here. You slipped up, Bang Chan.” The detective hissed, pulling Chan’s ear close to his lips.</p><p>“How so?” </p><p>“One of your little friends is selling you out.”</p><p>Chan was silent, pursing his lips.</p><p>“So, you really don’t know about the leak? Selling your information like a greedy corporate jagoff and then those buyers giving it to me.” Detective Oh said, grinning almost ferally. “That must burn you, being the last to know. And that knowledge being what will be your downfall. I’ve got you.”</p><p>“Do you?” Chan asked finally, looking down at his nails. “Can I get some water? I’m parched.”</p><p>The detective stopped, looking at Chan again. Apparently, the neutral expression wasn’t the one he’d been expecting. </p><p>“I don’t beg, detective, so I’d really appreciate it if I could get something to drink. Don’t want this precinct to be accused of human rights violations…er, more human rights violations. You already compromised anything you might want to use in a trial by putting your hands on me. I could confess to killing the president, right here, but anything I say will be tainted by the fact that you tried to physically intimidate me.” He continued, doing his best to sound as bored as possible. </p><p>“Listen here-“</p><p>“Besides I know all about Jeongin’s little side business.” Chan said, looking up at the detective with a calm sad smile. “Old habits die hard. And you and I know that Jeongin’s files are encrypted. As soon as it was sent to SM’s Neo division, it was corrupted. All that would send is a blank page. It would not print. Any hardrive would upload a virus that would eat through your outdated hardware. So, all you could have gotten, at best is word of mouth, which is notoriously unreliable, and I doubt SM would be willing to admit that they bought information they believed to be illegal and private on the darkweb, so you wouldn’t have witness even if you tried. And you’d have a hell of a time trying to convince anyone that SM Enterprises told you that I was involved in a plot to kidnap some random Judge and my own lawyer. A lawyer that would have been here right now, and whom you should be looking for, detective. A little tin-hat, especially from someone who’s had a documented vendetta against my family for years, something that I would have plenty of witnesses for, that are standing behind that glass I would surmise.”</p><p>The detective was doing his best to show no emotion, especially after that compromising outburst earlier. He already had one strike, two more and Chan would really have a rock-solid case against the police department. </p><p>“Don’t think I’m not privy to what is done under my roof, detective. I knew these boys were troubled when I took them in. I know their history, their habits, their patterns of behavior. I know what Jeongin did with that drive because I know what he’s done before, not that you could ever get him for that. Your golden egg is rotten, and it was from the moment you picked it up.”</p><p>He took a long breath and tipped his head, furrowing his brows in a look of concern that he knew was convincing. </p><p>“Look Jeongin is a smart kid, too smart for his own good most say. But he’s got his own issues to deal with. I doubt he believed that it would go this far. So, please don’t be too hard on him.” Chan said softly. “My only crime is letting it go this far, so if you want to charge me for that, I certainly won’t try and stop you. I hope you find whoever is responsible for this whole affair, and who is responsible for my lawyer, I really do, but don’t let your prejudices against my father blind you. This has nothing to do with me.”</p><p>Chan looked around the detective at the two way mirror. </p><p>“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like a glass of water.” He said.</p><p>“If you’re so innocent, then you can tell me where Lee Felix, Han Jisung, and Hwang Hyunjin are now. They’d have no need to run if you were innocent.”</p><p>“Certainly. Hwang Hyunjin left a few days ago, went to spend some time with his sister.” Chan replied, pulling a good lie from out of his ass. “As for Jisung and Felix, they were staying over with our neighbor Ms. Na when you decided to drop by for a visit. It was getting a bit crowded with my sister and her friends staying with us.”</p><p>“Why were your sister’s friends there?”</p><p>“You heard about the apartment building explosion? I trust you watch the news. That was her apartment, so some of her roommates came to stay with me for the time being.”</p><p>Detective Oh looked down at his papers, his knuckles bared white against the skin of his clenched fists.</p><p>“Reports say your brother and sister fled the hospital with a boy who fits Han’s description, said to be Kang Younghyun’s younger brother.” The detective said. </p><p>“My brother is Jihyo’s emergency contact, he was called after the explosion. Jisung was over at his apartment this weekend, so he brought Jisung along to the hospital. As for running, my brother believed that the women who attacked them were a threat to Jihyo’s life. So he brought her to stay with me, since that is where her friends and roommates were. And it was pretty much the end of the weekend, so Jisung decided to come home as well.” Chan said, reciting the line he’d practiced in his head on the way over, as he’d tried to anticipate the line of questioning the detective might travel down. “He’s since cleared it up with the hospital and the precinct with jurisdiction over the area where the hospital is located. They agreed that it was best for her personal safety for the time being and were planning on dispatching a nurse to my apartment in order to care for her there. You may contact them if you wish to verify that.”</p><p>“Why was Han Jisung, your ward, unofficially, at your brother’s home? Especially when you’ve made clear that you are not on good terms with your family.”</p><p>“Even if I don’t like my brother, I don’t believe he’d cause any harm to my friend, especially since he’s so fond of Jisung.” Chan said, though he couldn’t say he’d felt that way in actuality, but a good lie was a good lie. “And Jisung likes him. You see, Jisung has some anxiety, PTSD, surrounding what’s happened to him in the past. It gets bad occasionally, and he just needs some time and space and a change of scenery. That’s why he was there.”</p><p>“Your brother discussed the attack with you?”</p><p>“Briefly. Enough that I got the picture.”</p><p>“You have an answer for everything.”</p><p>“Is that not what you want?”</p><p>“You know what I want.”</p><p>“Something I can’t give you.”</p><p>“Where were you on Friday night?” The detective asked, pulling around to the point after what seemed like forever.</p><p>Getting to the point at last. It had taken long enough. Chan had been starting to believe that they would never make it to the other side of the bush the detective was beating around.</p><p>“I was meeting with my friend Sana Minatozaki for dinner at an ice cream shop in Gangnam. You can check the charges to my card if you’d wish to confirm that.” Chan replied. </p><p>“Miss Minatozaki is a friend of your sister’s, is that right?”</p><p>“She’s a longtime friend of the family, but she moved in with my sister recently. Obviously, you can understand why she didn’t stay with me. This country is still very conservative, even if we were just friends.” </p><p>“It wasn’t your present company?”</p><p>“Sana was aware of my current…project, I guess you would call it, for want of a better word. I’m assuming she trusted my judgement because, as you know, she was one of the people that stayed over with me.”</p><p>Detective Oh tugged at his collar, taking a couple beats to compose himself before continuing. </p><p>“Do you know what your…projects were doing Friday night?”</p><p>“I offer them a place to stay, and I offer guidance. I’m not a warden and I don’t keep an ankle monitor on them.” Chan said. “So, no, I am not aware of what they were doing Friday night. Unless you’d like me to posit a guess.”</p><p>Though it pained him to leave them in the open, there was no way to defend them without implicating himself, and he couldn’t work to get them out if he was also behind bars. He knew that Minho could easily talk himself out of involvement, Seungmin was already free and clear. Changbin would have a harder time. And Jeongin…well, he’d done enough. He’d gotten Jisung and likely Hyunjin kidnapped and compromised them. It hurt, but he couldn’t protect someone that had put them in danger. </p><p>It was for the best, even if it made him feel like shit. </p><p>He would give his life for these kids, but he couldn’t go and be impulsive. That wouldn’t help any of them. </p><p>“Go ahead, posit a guess.”</p><p>“Well, my guess is that Seungmin would be studying for his exams. For that, he likes to be out of the house, it is rather crowded, so he might ask Minho for a lift to go study somewhere, maybe get a coffee.”</p><p>“Why Minho?”</p><p>“Minho’s the only other one with a car.”</p><p>“What kind of car?”</p><p>“Hell if I know, I know about stock values and international trading, I don’t know much about cars I’m afraid.” Chan said. </p><p>That was true, he didn’t know shit about cars.</p><p>“Is it a small car, a van, a truck?”</p><p>“I think it’s a van. He works for a repair shop at the moment, so sometimes he’ll drive something else.”</p><p>“He works.”</p><p>Chan nodded. </p><p>“And as far as I know, Seo Changbin, and Yang Jeongin are both employed as well. The others do not have a regular means of employment.”</p><p>“So why is there large amounts of money being transferred into their accounts on the weekly?”</p><p>“I inherited some of my father’s money, it’s really my choice as to what I do with it.” Chan said. “To answer your query, yes, I do give them money. I consider it an allowance of sorts. They can use it however they desire, for groceries or streaming subscriptions. I hope to be able to aid them in managing their money, budgeting, so they can be better able to do so themselves when they leave my home.”</p><p>“So you’re a philanthropist.” Detective Oh said flatly, clearly not impressed by Chan’s answer. </p><p>“Call it what you will. I don’t label it.”</p><p>The detective was forcing himself to remain cool and calm, but Chan could see the punctuated vein in his forehead that revealed the boiling point inside. </p><p>“Okay, what do you suppose the others were up to?”</p><p>“’Up to’?” Chan asked. “An accusatory choice of words there, detective.”</p><p>“Answer the question.”</p><p>Chan sighed. “Jisung, as I told you, was headed over to my brother’s. Hyunjin was gone so I don’t know where or what he might’ve been doing. As for Changbin, he mostly works nights, but he took Friday night off, he likes to take one night off a week in order to catch up on sleep, so hazarding a guess, I’d say that’s what he was doing. Felix was probably studying his Korean. And Jeongin…I don’t know, was likely selling fake scoops online.” </p><p>“Hwang Hyunjin’s name was on the invitation to the gala that Judge Choi Ilsung was attending, and he brought a plus one, still unidentified, but is described as another male, slightly shorter.” Detective Oh said. “So, not his sister. Additionally damning is the fact that he was in contact with Judge Choi’s family in the months leading up to his disappearance.”</p><p>Chan didn’t know about that, but he’d approached Hyunjin earlier than he’d let Jisung know, telling him about the job, and the target. He didn’t ask about his methods. </p><p>“Unfortunately, the camera feeds were cut out. But I’d say a jury would be able to convict with just that. We have Hwang Hyunjin at the event, and a connection to the family.” Detective Oh said. “I’d love to get you behind bars, I would, but I can settle for the pretty boy whore if I have to.”</p><p>“Don’t call him that.” Chan said lowly. </p><p>“If the shoe fits, he can wear it. I wonder if he’ll look good in a jumpsuit.” </p><p>So, that was the real ace up the sleeve. He was hoping that Chan would make a sacrificial play to save Hyunjin. </p><p>“Any lawyer could make a good argument as to the motive. An affair possibly. From what I’ve read, he’s popular with unhappy wives.” The detective said. “Now, you just have to tell me where he is because he’s not with his sister…or your sister too, isn’t she? Adopted. Must be a strange dynamic.”</p><p>“I don’t know. He hasn’t come back to the penthouse. I last saw him on Friday before I left to meet Sana.”</p><p>“So, you’re going to let him take the fall. I always pegged you as a coward beneath all that bravado.”</p><p>Chan couldn’t take the bait. He couldn’t let this detective get into his head. </p><p>“I don’t know where Hyunjin is, so taunting me will do no good I’m afraid.” </p><p>“I think we’re done here.” </p><p>“Very well.” Chan said, standing up. “If I could get that water eventually, that would be great.”</p><p>“Tell me, where were you planning on going in such a hurry. I saw bags packed.”</p><p>“I was planning on taking the kid to Australia with me. Felix has been homesick for a while, and with all the family drama lately, I needed a change of scenery. I thought they might benefit as well.” Chan said. “Now, are we done?”</p><p>“Yes, I’ll escort you back to holding.”</p><p>And with that, Detective Oh grabbed onto his arm and lead him out the door. </p><p>Chan was relieved by the warmth of the rest of the precinct. </p><p>As they walked, he looked around. Watching the faces of the people he passed by. They were just people, doing their jobs, as much as this was an inconvenience, he couldn’t in good conscience fault them, even Oh for doing what they felt was required. </p><p>“So, Detective,” Chan said as they walked. “Do you have family?”</p><p>“Don’t get comfortable.”</p><p>“I’m not. You make me profoundly uncomfortable but seeing as we’ve been seeing a lot of one another, I thought it would behoove me to get to understand you better.” He replied evenly. “If you’d rather, I can ask you, why do you hate me so much?”</p><p>“You’re a criminal just like your father.”</p><p>“It’s my father you hate.” Chan deduced. “Fair enough, he was a Grade A narcissist who was unfit to raise children. I won’t dispute that he was a criminal. He caught Jaebeom smoking once in the back garden when he was sixteen or so and made him eat the entire pack of cigarettes as punishment. Someone called 119. Maybe it was Younghyun. But when the police arrived, my father just sweet talked them away. And every other time. I hated law enforcement for a long time too, still don’t like them much as an organization. But he was charming, so I’ve come to understand why no one did anything for the seven years in that hellhole.”</p><p>“You can’t convert me with a sob story.” Detective Oh said coldly. “Your father was a scourge to this city, and you are your father’s son.”</p><p>“Are my siblings not his children too? Because from what I can tell, only I get this level of…grudge.”</p><p>“Don’t bullshit me. Everyone knows you were always his prize. His favorite.”</p><p>“Please don’t talk about me like I’m a trophy of some kind. I hated him. Probably more than you ever will.”</p><p>Detective Oh tightened his grip and pulled Chan abruptly into an empty office. The sound of the door shutting was jarring in the sudden silence. The room was very small and very dark, filled to the brim with filing cabinets and very little space to stand that wasn’t uncomfortably close to one another. </p><p>“Well, this is cozy.” Chan commented when the detective didn’t start to speak. </p><p>“Does Jisung know what your father did?” </p><p>His father had done a lot of things. Some too horrible to be spoken aloud. But Chan couldn’t think of what would be something that applied to Jisung. </p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>“2010. Your father was driving home after a function at his old offices. He fell asleep at the wheel and ended up colliding with a taxi when he ran a light going twenty over as it went through the intersection. The passengers, a husband and wife, were killed immediately. The driver was airlifted to a hospital but died three days later.” Detective Oh said punctuated. “That couple was Han Jisung’s parents, and the driver was my uncle.”</p><p>A pit of ice fell into Chan’s stomach. </p><p>He really hadn’t known that. He knew about the accident, of course, but the details of the case that followed had been sealed up from the public. And he hadn’t bothered to snoop around in that case that seemed just a small fraction of the iceberg that made his father a horrible human being. </p><p>“Your father paid a meager settlement and got away with it. Like he did and like you’ve done countless times.”</p><p>Was that the reason he’d sent him to Malaysia five years ago? His guilt. It had seemed strange to him that his father would send him after someone so seemingly worthless. The man he was sent after, Jisung’s uncle, owed a pittance. It seemed like a demotion after his defiance toward his father around that time. </p><p>“Your father killed that boy’s parents. And sent him to that hell over there. And he sent my aunt into a depression that eventually killed her.” The detective continued, his voice trembling with the edge of barely suppressed rage. “And it was you, that fucker’s son, who found Han Jisung? That’s a coincidence I don’t buy in the least.”</p><p>“I swear I didn’t know.” Chan said, his words barely speaking. </p><p>“You want to know why I hate you, Bang Chan.” Detective Oh said with a bitter scoff. “It’s because you have no shame. Just like your old man.”</p><p>“I’m nothing like him.”</p><p>“You may not be his by blood, but you are every bit like your father. Cocky, arrogant, and selfish. It doesn’t matter how many bodies you throw on the fire, so long as you’re still standing in the end.” The detective spat. “One day that kid will figure out exactly what you are when you use him as a shield to save your own ass.”</p><p>Chan clenched his fists. He couldn’t let the detective get a rise out of him. </p><p>“All that anger, detective. It’s going to keep building and building. Trust me, I know all about it.” He said. “My father is dead, so now I bare his sins in your eyes. It doesn’t matter what I say, how innocent I may or may not be, I’ll always be guilty in your eyes. If not for the crime I’ve been brought in for, than for that accident ten years ago.”</p><p>He looked Detective Oh dead in the eyes. </p><p>“Just stop using Jisung as ammunition. Don’t use him, pretend to care for him, in order to justify your rage. Hate me all you want, I couldn’t care less, but leave him out of it.”</p><p>The detective looked as though he were about to speak, but before he could form his thoughts into words, an alarm started blaring overhead. </p><p>“Come on, we’re done here.”</p><p>Chan couldn’t help but feel a semblance of dread building up in his chest. It could just be burnt food in a microwave, but something felt wrong to him. He needed to get to the others. </p><p>He was pulled along as people milled about, trying to figure out what had caused the alarm. </p><p>A woman ran down the hall and bumped into the detective, the files in her arms scattering about across the floor. </p><p>“What caused the alarm?” Detective Oh asked, offering a hand to the woman to help her up. </p><p>“Oh, um, there was minor incident in the break room, someone’s food started burning in the microwave, it’s nothing to worry about.” She said nervously, brushing off her skirt. “Could you help me grab those please? This skirt is not optimal for bending…or running it seems.”</p><p>Detective Oh gave Chan a dark look before he bent down to grab the files from the floor, as if he might’ve been able to freeze him to the floor there with just a glare. </p><p>It was then that Chan got a good look at the woman, realizing that he recognized her. </p><p>His phone call had been successful then. </p><p>Woo Hyerim gave him a wink. </p><p>In the blink of an eye, she unsheathed the detective’s taser and jammed it into his exposed neck before he even got the chance to react. With him out of commission, she grabbed his ID badge, the keys for the handcuffs, and his gun, handing the taser and keys to Chan and tucking the gun in the waistband of her skirt. </p><p>“Come on, Yubin and Yeeun are getting the others.” She said, kicking off her heels and grabbing them up, beckoning him to follow along. “And Sunmi’s got the van a couple blocks away, waiting.”</p><p>“I take it Sunmi got my message.” He said, letting her lead him along as he unlocked the handcuffs and clipped them to his own belt loop. “Thanks for the rescue by the way.”</p><p>“Not a problem, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten to be out in the field. Kind of missed it to be honest.” She said with a sharp grin. </p><p>Hyerim started slowing down, grabbing him and pulling him into a bathroom. </p><p>As soon as the door shut, she pushed him over to the stalls. </p><p>“Change of clothes is in there.” She said, snatching a bag up from under the line of sinks. </p><p>In the stall, Chan found a small backpack hanging on the back of the door. Opening it, he found several layers of clothing inside. Getting out and avoiding detection on the streets would require more than one quick change. The more layers the better to mix and match, and also to hide one’s figure as well. And the less it looked like something you would wear even better. </p><p>So, as someone who’d grown up relatively in the public eye, being what society deemed appropriate and well-groomed was important. Shirt buttoned up, but not all the way, tucked in as well. The pants had to fit, but not too well, or else people would focus on that. His hair had to be perfectly styled as well. Not too much make-up if he chose to wear it. Everything had to be exact. Calculated. </p><p>The opposite of that was what Hyerim had put in the bag. </p><p>In all honesty, it was what Chan preferred to wear, but was just never allowed to. </p><p>A sleeveless tee. Ripped black jeans. A beanie. A fake lip ring. Some simplistic, generic sneakers that one in every ten people wore. No brand names or identifiable patterns or logos. </p><p>For layering, there was a black hoodie, much like the one he’d given Jisung. Some tearaway trackpants, for a good quick change. A windbreaker to go over the hoodie. And a baseball cap.</p><p>Also in the bag was an English to Korean pocket translator. Some cash. And a new smartphone. </p><p>So, he was a tourist. The best cover. </p><p>He quickly got dressed and stuck the translator in the pocket of his jacket, and the beanie in the waistband of his sweats. </p><p>As he threw his old clothes in the bag and shouldered the bag before coming out of the stall. </p><p>Hyerim was changed out of her pencil skirt and blouse, now wearing an oversized tee and black leggings, her bangs and hair length, now obviously extensions, were gone and she’d donned some red lipstick and sharp eyeliner. </p><p>“Want some?” She asked, gesturing to her make-up bag as she finished doing some simple contouring. </p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>She did some remarkably fast eyeliner and put on some lip tint. </p><p>While she applied it, he noticed a new ring on her hand. </p><p>“You’re engaged?” </p><p>“Oh, this, yeah, the wedding had to be postponed for a bit so I could help out Sunmi and the others until everything calms down.” She said, looking at the ring with a fond expression.</p><p>“That’s good. I’m happy for you.” </p><p>“That should be good.” She murmured before reaching to ruffle his hair out of the stiff style it was being held captive in. “Oh, a mask, here.”</p><p>She handed him a standard medical issue mask, and he slipped it on. </p><p>“Ready?” Hyerim asked, pulling on a pastel colored cardigan and a bucket hat.</p><p>“As ever.” He replied. </p><p>“Follow my lead and we’re golden.” </p><p>Hyerim poked her head out before linking arms with him</p><p>She paused, rummaging around for a second before pulling out a cologne bottle from her bag and spritzing Chan liberally with it.</p><p>“Smell is a sense too, and you have a signature scent. Best to switch it up.” </p><p>Fair enough.</p><p>“And we’re off.”</p><p>Chan tugged the baseball cap on and changed his gait and his posture immediately upon exiting, like the flip of a switch. Standing up taller, with a more leisurely pace that he’d used for the first thirteen years of his life. It came back to him so naturally. Bright smile and eye contact. Lean into that foreign bit of himself more.  Err on the side of unwarranted arrogance. </p><p>“So, I was thinking, we can take a walk around the park, maybe by the river or something.” Hyerim said, speaking in English, which threw Chan off slightly, but he quickly understood. </p><p>Right, tourists. </p><p>“I was hoping to stop for a bite to eat, I am so fucking hungry.” He replied exaggeratedly. “If I’d known it would take this long to report a stolen phone I would have just taken the L and bought a new one. I’m probably going to have to anyway.” </p><p>The people working in the station gave them plenty of space when passing them. He wasn’t sure if it was because they were being so dissonant to the usual flow of society or if the scent Hyerim had spritzed him with was just that strong. Whatever it was, he was just glad it was working.</p><p>“Let’s just get out of here and get some food. We can still enjoy the rest of this vacation, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, fine.”</p><p>They passed the front desk. </p><p>Hyerim made a show of pretending to struggle with pronunciation as she thanked the person working at the front desk. </p><p>They pushed out the front doors and blending in with the after work foot traffic. </p><p>First step, cleared. When trying to figure out where they went, the first step would be cameras, so the best bet was to throw off what they might be looking for.</p><p>“There’s a blind spot just up ahead, before we reach the corner.”</p><p>He followed her lead. On her mark, nearly in tandem they slowed their pace and began their quick change. </p><p>The coat fell away, as did the cap, and the track pants. He’d left the duffel partially unzipped so he could quickly stow them away and out of sight while walking. The beanie went on along with the hood. He additionally switched to a cross body carry for the duffel. </p><p>Hyerim ditched the sweater and the hat, replacing the hat with a headband. The tee shirt was pulled down so it draped more like a dress, and it seemed she’d had the sleeves of a longer shirt rolled up beneath the tee, so she pulled them down to cover her arms. Made sense, it would stick out in this cold weather to be in short sleeves. </p><p>In addition to the costume change, she moved around to the other side of him and pulled out a phone, walking up ahead a little bit.</p><p>They both turned off the switch, matching the energy and flow of the people on the street around them. As they rounded the corner, they were just a part of the crowd. </p><p>It was the little things that altered people’s perceptions, and if the police went looking for witnesses, they’d get conflicting reports. Two foreigners who knew one another leaving the police station. Two random strangers walking down the street. </p><p>Chan fell behind Hyerim a ways, still following her, but not making it appear as though he were doing so. The phone he’d been given buzzed, and the message was an address, along with directions. Okay. </p><p>She made a turn and he continued on straight across a crosswalk.</p><p>About a twenty minute detour later, he ended up where Hyerim had directed him. A nondescript van sat parked at the curb. He walked up to the window and knocked lightly. The door unlocked and he got into the back seat.  </p><p>“You’re already on the scanners.” Sunmi said casually, from the front. “But it seems like they lost you.”</p><p>“Good to know.” He replied, pulling off his mask and tucking it into his pocket. “Where’s everyone else?”</p><p>“They’re meeting us in different locations, so we’re heading a couple blocks over to make the pickup.”</p><p>“And Lim?”</p><p>“She’s going to meet her fiancé for dinner.”</p><p>Chan nodded. “Sounds normal. Jail break and then a date.”</p><p>“Normal is relative.” She said, starting up the car. “Now, let’s go pick up the rest of the family. It seems like we’ve got some catching up to do.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And we're back...</p><p>To be honest, I was in a bit of slump last week due to everything happening in the fandom, but I feel like I'm getting back my motivation. I have been waiting so long to include the Wonder Girls because I love them so much, so I'm excited to finally have them appear. Hope it was enjoyable because I had fun writing this chapter.</p><p>Have a good weekend and I'll see you next week.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Shaky Ceasefires and Moderately Civil Conversations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which the family has a long overdue talk</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They arrived back to their childhood home as the sky grew dark. Even just the silhouette of that house brought back feelings of anxiety throughout Chan’s body even without a particular memory attached to the feelings. It was a strange and unsettling feeling, and he didn’t like it in the least.</p><p>Two other cars were parked out front, Yeji and JB leaning against them respectively, as far from one another as they could possibly manage. They looked like they were in one piece, so at least there was that. And they hadn’t killed one another, which was also promising. </p><p>The van pulled to a stop and everyone piled out. </p><p>Apparently, according to Yeeun and Yubin, they’d gotten everyone out by pulling the fire alarm, which was what Chan had heard in the hall when Hyerim had caught up with him. Yeeun had set the microwave in the breakroom on fire, which drew attention away from her and Yubin making a hasty exit out the back door. From there they’d stored a duffel in the Dumpster with some various sweatshirts and hats. And they split up and did the same public quick change. </p><p>Chan kept his eyes tagged on Jeongin, who’d been skittish the entire ride there. He wasn’t going to let that kid out of his sight from then until whenever this thing finished, or until he figured out why exactly Jeongin had sold them out. There was no way in hell he was going to give the kid any more bankable information. Not when the lives of so many stayed dangling on the line. </p><p>The gravel crunched beneath his feet as he walked up to the last two members of the horribly damaged adoptive family he had been pulled into. </p><p>“You came.”</p><p>“You called.” Yeji replied, pushing off her vehicle. “This is your only time out, so you’d better be really convincing.” </p><p>“Hey, little sister.” Younghyun said jovially, too jovially for that time of the day. </p><p>“Where the hell have you been?”</p><p>“The hospital and jail. Sorry I couldn’t call. I was too busy trying not to die.” </p><p>Yeji didn’t look that least bit impressed with his response. </p><p>“Did Jisung end up getting to you?” Chan asked. </p><p>“He met Ryujin and she brought him back to our safe house.”</p><p>“And Felix?”</p><p>“I don’t keep track of your kids, Chan.” She said curtly. “Last time I checked you weren’t paying me to babysit them. Just be glad that Jisung was of some use to me, or else I might have made a different call when he arrived on my doorstep.”</p><p>So he’d need to get both Felix and Seungmin then. As much as he disliked Jisung being in the grasp of his siblings, at that moment, it might’ve been the safest place for him to be, so it would be best to just have him stay there and out of harm’s way. </p><p>“Fine. I take it you are looking for Hyunjin then.” Chan said, switching up the topic. </p><p>“I am. And I found him. Sunmi called just as we were leaving to go retrieve him. My team is recovering him now if all goes to plan.” </p><p>“And Jisung?”</p><p>“I thought a familiar face might put my brother more at ease, so he went along with them. I probably would have had to tranquilize him to stop him from going along.” Yeji snorted. “Can we go inside now? I wasn’t expecting to stand outside for so long so I didn’t bring my coat along.”</p><p>Chan gestured to the front door, inviting her to go inside. </p><p>Everyone herded toward the door. As they walked, Chan caught Jeongin’s sleeve, pulling him back toward him. </p><p>“Chan?” Jeongin said, not quite able to hide the look in his eyes that was reminiscent of a cornered animal. </p><p>“I know what you’ve done.” Chan said quietly. “I don’t know why you thought you could get away with it, or why you’ve done it, but I trust you remember what I told you that first night. I have no time or space for those who jeopardize my team. You will tell me everything after this meeting is over. Are we clear?”</p><p>“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” </p><p>“You do. I’m in no mood to deal with bullshit right now. You broke my trust, and that puts you in a precarious situation. Don’t test me because I don’t let myself get fooled twice.” He replied evenly. “Now, are we clear?”</p><p>Jeongin swallowed. “Yes.”</p><p>“Good, now let’s go.”</p><p>They ended the group walking in, kicking off their shoes in the doorway. </p><p>“Welcome to my childhood home.” Chan said, stepping forward, sure to put a warm smile on his face as he pulled Jeongin along after him. He didn’t want to tell the others just yet. Jisung was one thing, but he needed his team intact, unfractured for the time being. </p><p>“Who are those people?” Minho asked, gesturing to one of the first portraits in a long line of portraits on the wall. </p><p>It depicted his father and the first generation, or the trail run, of his adopted kids. Most of them Chan had never actually known. Then the second generation: Jay, Sunmi, Suzy, and Jihyo. Jay disappeared and was replaced by Chan and Jaebeom. Younghyun appeared. Then Sunmi disappeared.  Then Suzy. And Yeji appeared in the last family portrait. The six were not the first, they were just unfortunate enough to be the last. The fucker had died before Chan could get himself written out of the will. </p><p>“The others.” Jihyo answered, her voice still hoarse. </p><p>“There were more?” Minho scoffed. “Poor fuckers. Are they dead now?”</p><p>Leave it to Minho to be so blunt. </p><p>“Yeah, actually they are. Two that I know of.” Younghyun said gruffly from his place leaned against a doorframe, steely anger barely contained in his eyes. “Dear Old Dad neglected to ever tell us how, but their graves are in the garden out back. Surprised there wasn’t more of a scandal, but he was always good at covering stuff up.”</p><p>“Hmm, interesting.” Minho said, taking the information in stride. “How does a guy like that have the nerve to adopt more kids?”</p><p>“Hubris.”</p><p>Minho snorted.</p><p>“Tell me why you’re working for Channie when you have a personality and a sense of humor?” </p><p>“Jisung invited me. I didn’t actually know diddly nor squat about our fearless leader before joining up.” Minho said distractedly, looking closer at the various knickknacks and paraphernalia that Park Jinyoung had obsessively collected. “Met Jisung when he was running away from his shit foster parents, gave him a ride, and I gave him my number because he seemed like a good kid. Now I’m caught up in this nonsense. I should really stop trying to be a decent human being and stick to what I’m good at, which is being a selfish prick with an attitude problem.”</p><p>“That’s why.” Younghyun said, smirking at Chan as they all filed down the hall toward the dining area. </p><p>Chan rolled his eyes. </p><p>Shepherding their guests into the dining room, they all took their seats, habit putting them in their assigned ones since childhood, even though there was no presence to actually enforce that. The rest of the others filled in the seats, accordingly, sticking close to the people they were affiliated with. Sunmi sat at the head of the table, with Yubin and Yeeun taking her right and left side respectively. It was rather odd to see the long table so full. </p><p>Once everyone was seated, they turned to Sunmi to start the meeting. </p><p>“You called it, Chan.” Sunmi said, gesturing for him to take the floor. </p><p>He’d been too preoccupied with breaking out of jail to think about what he was actually going to say once he was brought home. </p><p>Time to wing it. Not his specialty. Carefully planned spontaneity was more of his modus operandi, but he could rise to an occasion. Probably.</p><p>He pushed back his chair and stood up. </p><p>Jaebeom had his arms crossed over his chest, the bags under his eyes making him look as tired as Chan felt. To her credit, Jihyo was still conscious, her eyes closed as she leaned her head back as if warding off some pain, judging by the tightness of her expression. Younghyun was fiddling with the strings of his sweatshirt. And Yeji was tapping her fingers against the table, the sound reverberating sharply in the silent, empty space.</p><p>“I think at this point, we all know that YG and SM are in the game, seeing as we’ve pretty much all had to encounter one and/or the other at some point. It’s no longer secret information.” Best to start with the obvious. “Now-“</p><p>“If you’re going to try and rally us to arms, that ship has sailed a long time ago, my brother.” Younghyun said flatly. “There’s only enough trust left between us to come to this fucking meeting, and that’s only because we trust Sunmi and are too scared of her to break the rules of a parlay.”</p><p>“You joined with Yeji.”</p><p>“One person, Chan, and we both know we were going to betray one another in the end, after we’d gotten rid of the rest of you.” Yeji chimed in. “That’s not trust, that’s mutually assured destruction, it’s different.”</p><p>“You came to my penthouse, and you rescued Jihyo from YG.”</p><p>“He didn’t rescue me, he just happened to be the most convenient escape route.” Jihyo said, still not opening her eyes. “I would have found another way out if I needed to.”</p><p>“Really?” Younghyun scoffed. “Because if I remember correctly, you were so hopped up on painkillers you couldn’t even stand. How are you feeling now, by the way, now that the morphine’s worn off?”</p><p>Jihyo wordless flipped him off. </p><p>“Thus proving my point. We couldn’t work together even if we did trust each other not to sell us out. We don’t work together.”</p><p>“And who’s fault is that?” Chan asked, trying to reign the meeting back in. “All we wanted was a family, and he pitted us against each other like we were fighting dogs or something. He got Jay and Suzy killed. This is our chance to be the family we needed growing up. At least for long enough to make sure what we all suffered for at the hands of our father to build wasn’t in vain.”</p><p>No one answered. </p><p>“What are we fighting for anyway?” He continued. “The company? The money? The dead bastard’s approval? The only one with enough sense to run the company has always been Jihyo. And we have enough money to take us through a lifetime with a generous budget. And Dad…he’s dead. In the ground. He’s the one we should be fighting against. Everything he programed into our minds, making us fight one another for his approval, and now sending us into a feeding frenzy for a top spot most of us don’t even really want.”</p><p>More silence. </p><p>“But if the rest of you are so determined to win the approval of a corpse that’s rotting in the ground, go ahead, be my guest, it still doesn’t take away from what I’m proposing.” He gripped the edge of the table. “It’s a common enemy and a temporary alliance. You all know, but are stubbornly refusing to admit that joining forces, coalescing what we each know in order to take down an enemy is the most logical solution. Why fight a war between ourselves and two other foes, when we can slim it down to at least a two front war? You know I’m right.”</p><p>He looked over at Sunmi for reassurance. She nodded.</p><p>“Look, we all hated dad, he was a selfish and narcissistic bastard. And in that narcissism he made us weak. Exerting that power, pitting us against one another, only ensured that we would be fractured and susceptible to outside attacks. YG and SM recognized that. That’s what they’re counting on. No one will be expecting us to join forces, so in doing so we’d all only stand to gain.”</p><p>Then he looked at each of his siblings.</p><p>“If you want to win, this is how you do it. Like it or not. I certainly don’t. Still, I’m not one to let my pride get in the way of reason. Don’t think about what he would want, think about what makes sense. And come back to me with your answer. I’m going to go eat a sandwich and take a nap.”</p><p>With that, he pushed back his chair, grabbed Jeongin by the arm and walked out of the room.</p><p>He pulled them down to the kitchens that sat below the dining room in the pseudo-basement level. It was always rank with the smell of something gone bad and remained frigid even through the summer months. As kids, the older ones would always make up stories that the smell came from a body hidden in the walls, which was scary only because it was plausible in that hell-house. </p><p>Jeongin sat down on a stool by the counter where Chan would come to do his schoolwork when he was a teen, and not in boarding school. The space was colder and dustier then he remembered, but otherwise his childhood sanctuary seemed relatively untouched. </p><p>“You hungry?” Chan asked perusing the cupboards to find some plates and cups. </p><p>Jeongin just stared at the floor. </p><p>People weren’t very talkative that night. </p><p>He sighed and squatted down in front of the fridge. It seemed like Sunmi and the rest of the Wonder Girls had kept the food up to date even if the place hadn’t been dusted. He pulled out some deli meat and slapped it up on the counter next to the prepackaged loaf of bread, setting forward to do what he’s said he would. </p><p>“So,” He said, methodically folding the sliced ham on the bread. “Why did you do it?”</p><p>“Are you going to kill me?” Jeongin asked quietly.</p><p>“If you keep lying to me and dodging my questions, maybe, but if you’re honest with me from this point forward, no.” Chan replied, ducking down again to try and find some condiments, unfortunately coming up empty. “Now, care to answer my question?”</p><p>“How did you know it was me?”</p><p>“Dodging the question.”</p><p>“I did it because I’ve got a debt to pay, alright!” Jeongin snapped, taking Chan aback. </p><p>Jeongin squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away from Chan. </p><p>“My parents got in deep with a cult, since I was a child. They sunk all of our savings and even put a mortgage out on our house to give to the fucking thing.” He continued bitterly. “They took out loans from bad people. And just kept on doing it. What you give me goes to paying for my parent’s apartment, giving my brothers money to shop for food and pay the bills, and an allowance for my parents. But that only goes so far, and the leftover wasn’t putting a dent in their debt. So when someone approached me telling me that they would buy the information I got and sell it for me, giving me a substantial finder’s fee, I took the chance. I don’t regret helping my family, but I didn’t realize that it would get Jisung and Hyunjin hurt. I didn’t know that they were important to me until after they were gone. I didn’t want them to get hurt.”</p><p>“But they did,” Chan said softly. “This is what happens when you play that game at the highest level. People get hurt.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I hope you are, I really do, but it’s going to take more than ‘sorry’ to fix that. I can’t forgive you just yet, and I know that not everyone in the crew is going to forgive you right away either. And they have that right.” </p><p>“You’re going to tell them.”</p><p>It wasn’t a question, more of a resigned statement.</p><p>“Eventually, yes. Jisung already knows. I left him a note. But the others…they are owed that much, especially Hyunjin. Until then I can’t in good conscience let you near any electronics, and I can’t let you be left to your own devices either.” Chan said, cutting the sandwich in half and handing one side to Jeongin. “Is there anything else you want to tell me because if there is something, and you don’t tell me now, I will most certainly find out and I will not be as understanding of a person later.”</p><p>“No, there’s nothing else.”</p><p>Chan sighed. </p><p>He’d still have to look into that, but for the time being, for better or for worse, he would have believe Jeongin at his word.</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped you.”</p><p>“It would have been another debt owed. I didn’t know you well enough to trust that you wouldn’t hang what you’d given me over my head. At that point, doing what I did felt like the only surefire way to break out of the loop of being indebted to someone.” Jeongin said, taking the sandwich miserably. “I couldn’t risk that. I couldn’t risk putting my brothers…my family through that again.”</p><p>Chan wanted to be upset. He’d needed these boys for his own agenda, yes, but somewhere along the line he’d decided that they were something more. Something akin to the family that he’d never had and always longed for. In his head maybe he was delusional enough to think that everyone could trust him, should trust him because he would never do something to harm them purposefully. But it was in moments like these that Chan was reminded of where these boys had come from. They were all broken and put back together in different ways, and some of them couldn’t just trust someone not to shatter them even further. </p><p>Not all of them could just shuck off what their past had conditioned them to expect so easily. </p><p>“So,” Jeongin said, not yet taking a bite of the sandwich. “How’d you figure it out?”</p><p>“Sana told me about the sale and that there were two other buyers. Then Young K told me he was one of the buyers and gave me the online ID.” Chan explained. “It was just deduction after that. You are adept at technology, and good at covering your tracks online. You have also proven the ability to dig into our stuff before when you talked about customizing our earpieces. Additionally, you created the earpieces yourself, so only you would be able to either tamper, or give the knowhow of how to tamper with the earpieces, which happened with Hyunjin’s tracking feature. Mostly it was just profiling the abilities and matching it up with who possessed the skills needed to pull this off. Not many people in the world have the skills to do that, let alone in a group of eight. Your ability to hide your identity so well sort of gave it away.”</p><p>Jeongin nodded. </p><p>They sat there, eating without speaking in the kitchen until someone came down the stairs. </p><p>It was Yubin.</p><p>“Hey, Channie?” She said, knocking on the doorframe to alert them. </p><p>Were they done discussing everything already? That had been fast. </p><p>“There are some people at the door, they say they're with you.” She said. “Several of them seem to be covered in blood, so can you just verify that they aren’t going to kill everyone in this house so we can let them in.”</p><p>Apparently not. </p><p>“Yes, of course.”</p><p>Chan stood up, gesturing for Jeongin to follow him up. </p><p>They climbed the stairs behind Yubin and trailed after her to the front door. </p><p>Chan looked at the video feed from the doorbell. The small frame was crowded by a motley crew of individuals all looking like they were showing up to a different event. There was a unicorn onesie, scrubs, a disheveled suit, sweats, a jumpsuit and an array if aesthetics between the different styles. There were a couple bloody noses, black eyes, and one had their arm in a make-shift sling. There were two people being held up by others, heads slumped forward.</p><p>Grainy and dark as it was, he recognized the odd group standing outside immediately. </p><p>He wasn’t sure how they’d managed to actually find this place, but he was too relieved to see them all alive and more importantly, not dead, that he perished that thought almost immediately as he went to unlock the door and let them in.  </p><p>“Hey, Chan.” Jisung said, smiling weakly through a split lip and a darkened aye. “It’s been a while, huh?”</p><p>What a fucking sight for sore eyes. </p><p>Chan's throat tightened up.</p><p>“Two bullet wounds, a broken wrist, broken arm, a sprained ankle, a concussion, a dislocated shoulder, and some cracked ribs.” Seungmin mumbled, heaving a drooped form through the threshold with Jisung. “Not counting everything that he’s got.”</p><p>In the light, Chan caught a glimpse of who they were carrying. </p><p>“You found him.” Chan breathed, still in a state of shock of seeing them. </p><p>Hwang Hyunjin. </p><p>Alive. </p><p>But he didn't have time to process the relief he felt in that moment. </p><p>Like the promenade of animals onto Noah’s ark, the troupe of wounded people made their way inside. As they did, Chan did a preliminary head count and attendance: Jisung, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Felix, Chaeryoung, and three other girls that he didn’t recognize, probably the other members of Yeji’s team. </p><p>Eight in total. </p><p>Even beaten up, they were about the best sight Chan had seen. </p><p>There was blood covering the front of the girl in the onesie, splattered up onto her face, but it didn’t appear to be hers. She and Chaeryoung, whom Chan had known briefly in passing, were dragging another girl between them. And Felix and another girl brought up the rear. Felix with a sling and the girl with a makeshift splint fashioned around her wrist. </p><p>“You know all these children?” Yubin asked, shutting the door behind her, and reengaging the locks. </p><p>“Some of them.”</p><p>“I’m Jisu.” The girl with the wrist splint said. “The one in the onesie is Yuna, Chaeryoung is on the other side there, and in the middle is Ryujin. We work with Yeji.”</p><p>“And I’m Seungmin.” Seungmin said. “Felix is in the back.” Felix waved with his good arm. “Jisung is the other bookend. And Hyunjin is currently logged out for a bit under some sedation. We’re Chan’s problem.”</p><p>“I’m Yubin.” Yubin said, her brows furrowed. “Very concerned, but willing to help. What the hell happened?”</p><p>“Can we walk and talk?” Seungmin asked. “And is there a place where we can deal with…all of this?”</p><p>“There’s the library. It has several couches and it’s near enough to the bathroom. We’ve got pretty much an arsenal stocked up there, so go ham.” She said, moving ahead briskly and leading them further into the house. </p><p>Chan let all of them pass, so he could see them all ahead of him.</p><p>He noticed that Jeongin had wilted into the wallpaper, looking as though he were going to pass out. </p><p>“If you want to start making it up to them, you can help tend to the injuries. I’m sure Seungmin won’t refuse an assistant.” Chan said. </p><p>“Do you think Jisung told them about…” </p><p>The question tapered off without completion. </p><p>“I don’t think he would yet.” Chan said after a moment. “Now, go on.”</p><p>Jeongin worried at his bottom lip before sprinting off after the others. </p><p>Chan watched him catch up with Felix, the latter swinging an arm over Jeongin’s shoulders. </p><p>This fight would dig into them tooth and nail, it wouldn’t let them go unscarred. Nobody in that house would be untouched by this.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Another chapter...</p><p>Thanks for reading. See y'all next week.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Swanky Hideouts and Unsure Alliances</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jisung gets stitched up and makes some friends</p><p>TW:// brief descriptions of torture and blood, and mild depictions of panic attacks</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Not many of the half-baked schemes Jisung got involved in actually managed to work out in the end. His presence seemed to curse such attempts to half-ass and wing things. Most of the time the aura of bad luck that surrounded him was enough to keep people a good distance. Unless they were stubborn, like Chan, or just really didn’t care, like Mark. </p><p>But considering his track record, the undercooked plan he was currently in the middle of was actually turning out better than he’d thought it would. It was a strange sensation. He probably would have felt more elated if he wasn’t bleeding out in the passenger’s seat of Shin Ryujin’s car on the way to meet Hwang Yeji, someone who might or might not just kill him.  </p><p>He also might’ve been delirious. </p><p>That could also be it. </p><p>“Hey, Beauty Queen.” Ryujin said, her phone mounted on the dash and currently Facetiming with the friend she had supposed to have been meeting for lunch. “I’m going to have to cash another raincheck for that lunch date. But if you would be the most wonderful, perfect angelic human being and find someone for me.”</p><p>“I’m not a bounty hunter, Ryu.” Minji said. “Who do you need me to find?”</p><p>“Boy, around my age, on the smaller side, sort of looks like if a golden retriever procreated with the sun.”</p><p>“That’s a description.” A pause. “But very apt apparently. I think I see your sunshine mutt over there.” </p><p>The camera panned to the floor as Minji presumably went to go find Felix. </p><p>“Is this it?”</p><p>Ryujin looked over at Jisung, who could only really nod in response as Felix’s bewildered face filled the screen. </p><p>“Yeah, that’s him- Motherfucker, learn how to drive asshat!” Ryujin shouted, laying on the horn and the brakes as someone made an ill-advised turn in front of them</p><p>“You good?”</p><p>“Fucking wonderful.” </p><p>Minji turned the camera back to herself. “Great, now what do I do with him?”</p><p>“Um…any ideas…”</p><p>“Jisung.” He croaked. </p><p>“Great, any ideas?”</p><p>“Um…have Felix give her Seungmin’s number and call him.”</p><p>Ryujin sighed heavily but relayed the message louder to Minji. </p><p>“Alright, copy that. See you next week then?”</p><p>“Yeah, you’re the best. I owe you one.”</p><p>“You owe me several.” Minji corrected. </p><p>“Fine.” </p><p>“Bye! Love you. Mwah.”</p><p>And the call ended. </p><p>He was handed a blindfold for the rest of the journey. </p><p>Well, that was that then. </p><p>God, he was in pain. Whatever pain meds he’d taken before had completely dissolved. </p><p>“Almost there, chubby cheeks. Just try not to die in my car.” Ryujin said after a while.</p><p>Okay, good advice. He would try not to do that.  </p><p>As they drove he drifted in and out of consciousness, much like he had after the incident at the hospital with Young K. It seemed as though he was spending most of these last few days either unconscious or as good as unconscious. His lucidity was becoming a rare commodity to come across as of late. </p><p>Time seemed to move faster when he wasn’t aware of its passage because before he knew it, Ryujin was shaking him awake.</p><p>“Come on, buddy, you’ve got to walk yourself because while I am as strong as I look, this jacket in dry clean only and I’m not ready to have that conversation with the grandma who launders my clothes for me.” She said. “She knows too much about me as it is already.”</p><p>Fair enough. </p><p>Unfortunately for both of them the sky was now the ground and the ground was now the sky for Jisung and it seemed as though his body had forgotten what coordination was. So Ryujin had to become a bit of a crutch so he didn’t eat pavement or fall into the oncoming traffic he could hear beyond his blindfold. No use in him dying before they found out whether or not the information he had was useful or not. </p><p>Eventually they made it up a set if stairs and into some kind of building. </p><p>Only then was the blindfold taken off. </p><p>It was a revamped warehouse of sorts, looking more like a cyberpunk hideout in a dystopian sci-fi movie than anything else. There were screens all over the place showing live news feeds, blinking lights on sleek machines, also beanbag chairs and some hammocks. Soft twinkle lights wrapped around the support beams and on the railings of the catwalk and ladders that climbed up to it. It was definitely the hideout of the protagonist that would fight the system and take down the government, but with style and comfort. </p><p>The twinkle lights were blinking red as they walked toward the largest section of screens. </p><p>Ryujin stopped at a support column with a small box fixed to it. She opened it and typed in a number onto the keypad inside. The lights turned back to a soft white. She then pressed a small red button at the bottom. </p><p>“All in us, hey, lovelies, I’m home. And I brought a guest.”</p><p>The voice echoed from speakers hidden in the shadows of the warehouse.</p><p>And like magic, four girls appeared from out of nowhere.</p><p>“I thought we were going to change that passcode a while ago.”</p><p>“Why fix what’s not broken?” Ryujin said innocently, suppressing a smirk. “I think it works marvelously.”</p><p>A girl with sharp eyes stepped forward. </p><p>“Hey, Jisung, this is Yeji.” Ryujin continued speaking as though nothing was in the least bit uncomfortable. “Yeji, Jisung.”</p><p>“Hi.” Jisung said. </p><p>“Is that blood?” Someone else said, moving to the front. </p><p>“Oh, right, I almost forgot about that.” Ryujin hummed. “Yeah. That’s blood. Torn stitches. How’d you get that anyway?”</p><p>“Stabbed.”</p><p>“Well, this is Jisu. She’s better at these types of things than me. So you go with her the others and get fixed up.” She said. “Yeji, you and I can talk privately.”</p><p>Yeji nodded stiffly.</p><p>“Cool.”</p><p>Jisung felt himself get traded over to Jisu like the sack of potatoes he currently resembled in every sense except maybe physical, and he was ushered away, deeper into the warehouse. Behind a curtain was a table, and he was silently gestured at to jump up onto it. </p><p>The other two girls with Jisu were…oddly juxtaposed. One was intimidating, while the was trying really hard to be intimidating, but was about as intimidating as one of those fuzzy, little bumble bees that bounced from flower to flower in a meadow without a care in the world. All buzz, no sting. Except for the knife that each of them had, that might qualify as a sting. Maybe he needed to workshop his metaphor a little. </p><p>“Take this.”</p><p>Jisu pressed a small pill into his palm and a little shot glass sized drink of water into his other hand. </p><p>If he were in any fitter state, he would have questioned what exactly the pill was, but he wasn’t so he just swallowed them down without a thought. </p><p>Almost immediately, his eyes rolled back into his head and the world went black. </p><p>He woke up later, the warehouse not giving any indication as to how much time had passed, but the intimidating girl and Jisu were gone, while the fuzzy, bumblebee girl was sat on the floor in a pink unicorn onesie doing what looked like homework. Apparently white collar crime recruitments started early. Maybe if he’d signed up earlier he wouldn’t have had as fucked up of a start as he’d had at life. Still fucked up, judging by how Chan turned out, but a little bit less. He could’ve worked with a little bit less.</p><p>The drug he’d been given must’ve been an amped up painkiller of some sort because he couldn’t feel much of anything, which was better than the feeling of actively bleeding from a stab wound, so it was an upgrade in his book.</p><p>Then the girl looked up from her work, tipping her head as she met his eyes. </p><p>“Wow, I was beginning to think you were dead.” She said bluntly. “Because at first you were snoring, but then you stopped.”</p><p>“Cool.” Jisung croaked. “You’re my warden, I presume?”</p><p>“Bingo,” She said, tapping the side of her nose. “I have this fun little tranquilizer gun too.”</p><p>She pulled out the aforementioned weapon, previously used to prop up a textbook with a pleasant smile, spinning it around her finger before setting it back down again. </p><p>“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think you’re going to get to use it. I can’t feel my legs, let alone stand on them.”</p><p>The girl pursed her lips, clearly a little disappointed. “I don’t suppose you’re any good at algebra, are you?”</p><p>“Abysmal I’m afraid.”</p><p>“Figures.” She muttered, flipping through her textbook again. “History?”</p><p>“Not much. I lived in Malaysia since I was nine.”</p><p>“Do you know anything useful?”</p><p>“The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.” Jisung said flatly. </p><p>She didn’t seemed impressed with that answer. </p><p>“That’s about as much as I’ve got too.” She said with a huff, tugging a hand through her hair. “I’m going to fail school.”</p><p>“At least you have a back-up plan.” </p><p>He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, or at least not loud enough to be heard, but clearly his brain was still on low battery because it came out, and loudly. </p><p>The girl snorted. </p><p> “There is that. Not sure my teachers would be impressed.”</p><p>“Seems like a perfectly respectable career path to me. But maybe I’m biased.”</p><p>She smiled. “Perhaps just a little bit. I’m Yuna, by the way. Since we’re going to be keeping one another company for a while.”</p><p>“Jisung.”</p><p>“I gathered as much from Ryujin’s brief introduction.” Yuna said, frowning down at her books again. “Chaeryoung and Jisu went out to go pick up some supplies for dinner, since you decided to sleep for so long.”</p><p>Jisung’s stomach gurgled rather disgruntledly. </p><p>“I haven’t eaten in a while.” </p><p>“Clearly.”</p><p>They stayed like that for a while, Yuna doing her schoolwork, Jisung just sort of lying there providing emotional support and commiseration for the struggles of being a school-aged human being. Not fun, in his brief experience in playing that role. </p><p>“Dinner’s here! Come and get it before it’s gone!” A voice crackled over the warehouse's intercom system.</p><p>Yuna closed up her work and stood up, cracking her neck and yawning. </p><p>“Legs working any better?”</p><p>He tried an experimental wiggle, but nothing seemed to happen. Vague tingling, but not much else. He could move his arms with a little thought and effort, but his legs remained stubbornly immobilized. </p><p>“Afraid not.”</p><p>Yuna pursed her lips. Then her eyes lit on a rolling office chair. </p><p>“Just how hungry are you?”</p><p>Jisung raised an eyebrow. </p><p>Uh-oh.</p><p>In the end, he was being wheeled through the warehouse on the squeaky wheels of the aforementioned office chair toward the ever-stronger growing scent of pizza. The momentum at which they were going nearly ran over the girl, who must’ve been Chaeryoung, as she brought over the plates and napkins toward the air hockey everyone had chairs pulled up around. </p><p>“You’re going to kill me one of these days.”</p><p> “Maybe. Or perhaps your reflexes are dulling with old age.” Yuna said, yelping and dodging out of the way of a throwing star that lodged in the wall behind her. </p><p>“Maybe.” Chaeryoung replied in deadpan, continuing over to the air-hocky table to set the items down. </p><p>Yuna pushed him up toward an empty space and plopped down in the seat next to him. </p><p>“I see you made a friend.” Ryujin commented, walking in from somewhere else in the warehouse, Yeji shortly behind her.</p><p>“I’m formally adopting him.” Yuna said, prying open the pizza box. </p><p>“Does he know?”</p><p>“And aren’t you seventeen?”</p><p>“Did you finish your homework?” </p><p>Yuna huffed. </p><p>“He does now. Yes. And Mostly.”</p><p>Yeji gave Jisung a skeptical look. </p><p>He just shrugged. </p><p>Yeji sighed heavily, pulling out a chair and sitting down. </p><p>“This might as well be happening.” </p><p>“Story of my life.” Jisung muttered. </p><p>Everyone else took a seat as well, and started digging into the pizza, passing around the plates and napkins. Nobody seemed to react when he grabbed a slice from the box, so he decided it was alright for him to eat as well. </p><p>“So, what have you got for me that I can use?” Yeji asked pointedly.</p><p>“Really depends on what you already have.” </p><p>Yeji raised her eyebrows. </p><p>That probably sounded more antagonistic than he’d intended it to. </p><p>Oops. </p><p>“Sorry.” He said quietly, looking down at his plate. “Um…what do you need to know?”</p><p>“Well, let’s start with how you and your team managed to lose my brother in the first place?”</p><p>It was still so weird to hear Hyunjin being referred to as Yeji’s brother. Still a little bit dissonant. </p><p>“We were on a job. And it got compromised by a leak inside of our operation. That information was sold to the opposition.” Jisung replied. “From what’s been told to me, the earpieces we wore were tampered with to provide false tracking signals. Or at least his was. I don’t know much more of what happened that night because I was preoccupied with something else.”</p><p>“I knew that much already.” Yeji said. “Hyunjin hasn’t talked to me in years, but I’ve kept tabs on him when I could. And Younghyun and I have been trading information.”</p><p>“There were three buyers of the information. Young K, Jihyo, and someone else. That someone else is the only other person who would know how to get to Hyunjin, right?” Jisung said, his mind racing as he started to think about it again. </p><p>“Hypothetically, yes.”</p><p>“Chan believed the third buyer was SM.”</p><p>Jisung looked up and met Yeji’s eyes across the table. </p><p>“Okay,” Yeji was starting to look interested in what he was saying. “Why would he believe it was SM?”</p><p>“One of their-your family’s biggest rivals, right?” </p><p>“Why not YG? Why was he sure it was SM?”</p><p>Felix had told him about the timeline from the night when he and Hyunjin went missing. Chan had been brought home by members of Jihyo’s team, one of which was an old friend of his. They’d been drugged, according to Felix. But it was never mentioned by whom. </p><p>“Are there any SM teams or units that deal with drugs and poisons as a means of killing or subduing their targets?” He asked. “Chan was poisoned on that night. When Hyunjin and I were taken.”</p><p>“Chae?” Yeji said, nodding to the girl, Chaeryoung that Jisung and Yuna had almost run over a few minutes before. </p><p>“On it.” She said, standing up and moving toward the monitor setup in the middle of the warehouse. “Can you narrow it down any more?”</p><p>“Poison is statistically the weapon of choice for killers that are women.” He said, remembering a particular YouTube rabbit hole he’d gone down a few months ago. “Women who kill for contract or hire are usually more effective at it as well and will use quieter, quicker, and cleaner methods of completing the job. So asphyxiation, strangulation, drowning, or stabbing.”</p><p>“I think I’ve got two that fit the bill.” Chaeryoung said after a minute. “But I think you’ll find this group particularly interesting.”</p><p>On the largest screen, Chaeryoung projected a group profile. The name at the tope read: Red Velvet. </p><p>“Five member unit under SM’s umbrella. Bae Joohyun, also known as Irene, leader of the group. There’s Kang Seulgi, Son Seungwan, or Wendy, Park Sooyoung, or Joy, and Kim Yerim, or Yeri. Became active in late 2014 as a four-piece before Yeri was added sometime in 2015.” Chaeryoung said. “My algorithm ties them to just under a dozen assassinations. Some high power government officials. Some corporate guys. Hmm…that’s interesting…”</p><p>“What?” Yeji asked. </p><p>“Oh, nothing important. It’s just the algorithm seems to think they were connected with a string of deaths of some delivery boys in the US back in 2017. I mean they were in the city at that time, and some of it seems like their style…” Chaeryoung continued, reading something from her screen. “Poison, one was shot with a crossbow…oof.”</p><p>“Maybe they wanted some target practice.” Ryujin said flatly, pouring herself a drink, unphased by the information. </p><p>“Does that sound right?”</p><p>“The assassinations, how were they carried out?” Jisung asked. </p><p>“Poison mostly. Poison in the cake. Poison and then suffocation. Poison and then falling out a nine story window. Barely any trace evidence except some witnesses that said the victims left with a woman. But the woman’s description changed every time. Tall. Short. Bubbly. Icy.”</p><p>That seemed to fit the bill. </p><p>“Okay,” Yeji said, looking up at the screen and biting the inside of her cheek, deep in thought. “So, working off the assumption that it was SM that bought the info, and Red Velvet would have been sent out to deal with Chan, that would beg the question as to who else under SM took Hyunjin, how, and where do they have him now?”</p><p>All very good questions. None of which Jisung had answers to. </p><p>“With the Neo Zone firewall, it’s hard enough to get the scraps that I’ve gotten so far. Give me a little time and I’ll do some digging.” </p><p>So, all there was to do was wait, and eat, and hope Chaeryoung could get through the firewall and get them some information. </p><p>Eventually, after the pizza was finished off and the air hockey table was cleared up, Chaeryoung found a backdoor. </p><p>“Got it!”</p><p>By then, Jisung’s legs had started to regain feeling again. </p><p>He followed the others over to Chaeryoung’s set-up. </p><p>“I’m into everything that can be accessed remotely. Some stuff will probably only be able to be accessed on location. I’m grabbing as much as I can before someone realizes I’m snooping around.” She said, typing furiously on the keyboard, her eyes narrowed with intense focus. “Tell me if you see anything and I’ll-“</p><p>She stopped short as a recording opened up across her screen. </p><p>“What the…” She breathed. “I didn’t open that.”</p><p>On the screen was a full quality video starring a plain cement wall and a four-legged chair. </p><p>“What is this?” Yeji asked. </p><p>“I don’t know yet.” Chaeryoung snapped, clicking at the keys in quick succession with no result. “Come on.”</p><p>Jisung looked at the time at the bottom of the feed. It was dated two days prior. Only a couple hours after Hyunjin had disappeared. </p><p>“The date stamp.” Jisung said quietly. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The date stamp…it’s from two days ago.”</p><p>Yeji’s expression hardened. “Let’s just see what this is before we jump to conclusions.”</p><p>They watched silently as the video played on. </p><p>There was no sound to fill the empty space, just more silence. </p><p>About two minutes of staring at the empty chair, a figure was walked onto the screen by two others. Or rather lead forcefully and pushed down into the chair. </p><p>As the two escorts stepped away, they could see who was sitting in the chair. </p><p>Long dark hair and a cold, prince-like aura. </p><p>Hyunjin. </p><p>“Can you get us audio?” Yeji asked, her jaw set determinedly. </p><p>“It’s blocked. I can’t get anything.” Chaeryoung said, her voice fraying with frustration. </p><p>It didn’t seem as though Hyunjin knew the camera was there. His head was drooped and he seemed so…pliant. Like he had very little will, let alone any defiance. The haughtiness and cool demeanor that Jisung was usually privy to had completely dissipated. Almost as though Hyunjin wasn’t even there in any sense except physical. </p><p>His eyes, in the sharp focus of the camera quality, were glazed and dead-looking. But not in the way that they might be if he were drugged. </p><p>The whole thing put a bad feeling in Jisung’s stomach. A familiar sick feeling. </p><p>Because Hyunjin didn’t looked drugged up or drunk, he looked defeated. Resigned to whatever awaited. </p><p>And that couldn’t be right. </p><p>He hated Hyunjin because he was everything Jisung couldn’t be, everything Jisung hadn’t been when it mattered. To see him so lifeless almost made Jisung nauseous. And he couldn’t figure out why that was. </p><p>He’d hated him because he thought that Hyunjin would have never let anything be done to him. Because he thought that Hyunjin wasn’t weak enough to give in. </p><p>And there Hyunjin was…giving in. Letting everything be done without resistance. </p><p>One of the captors backhanded Hyunjin across the face, snaping his head to the side. </p><p>Nothing. </p><p>The camera just ate the scene up greedily from its unknowing protagonist, regurgitating it for its nonconsenting viewers.   </p><p>They grabbed Hyunjin’s hair and forced his head back. </p><p>Another captor started to cut away the dress clothes Hyunjin was clad in with an open blade. Clearly they didn’t seem to care as to whether or not the blade nicked the skin. They threw aside the shredded cloth carelessly, all while making sure never to block the camera’s front row seat to the sick show they were putting on.  </p><p>All the while, Hyunjin didn’t react. His eyes remaining cold and dull.  </p><p>There was just nothing. </p><p>Jisung tugged on the fabric of his own clothes with his fingers as he hugged his arms tightly around himself. </p><p>He felt too claustrophobic, even though the space was so open and large. Nausea washed over him. It was too hot. Stuffy. And he was beginning to feel suffocated in his own body. </p><p>The clicking of the keyboard. The scuff of a shoe on the floor. The buzz and whirring from the monitors and the machines it wired up to. The heat rumbling through the vents. The creaks of the old building settling. </p><p>He couldn’t breathe. </p><p>But still, he was locked in place. Watching the scene unfold before him. </p><p>They were cutting his hair. </p><p>Grabbing up chunks and slicing it off unevenly. Sometimes just ripping it from his scalp. </p><p>Still nothing. </p><p>No resistance. </p><p>No reaction. </p><p>No fight. </p><p>They paused, stepping back as if to admire their gruesome handiwork for a moment. </p><p>Their mouths were moving, like they were asking Hyunjin something. </p><p>Again, like usual, Hyunjin remained unresponsive, which they didn’t seem to like very much.</p><p>One of them lashed out, slicing at Hyunjin’s face with the blade they’d used to take away what little dignity their captive still had. The knife split the skin like butter, cutting from his brow down to his cheekbone, the blood welling up and spilling down his face almost immediately. </p><p>The captor grabbed Hyunjin’s chin and seemed to repeat what he’d said before. </p><p>Nothing. </p><p>Why wasn’t he even trying to save himself? </p><p>He wasn’t even tied down, and yet, his silence was his only defiance. </p><p>The captor spit in Hyunjin’s face, mixing the saliva with the blood and spreading it over his skin until most of it was obscured as if by a mask. </p><p>It was like they were unraveling Hyunjin’s well-constructed shell, the persona built up to protect him, stealing his hair, the fancy clothes, his looks, until there was nothing left to shield him any longer.</p><p>Jisung couldn’t watch any more. </p><p>He bolted, not even sure where he was running, just knowing that he had to get away. </p><p>His heart screamed like a caged animal, begging to be released, but Jisung couldn’t free it. Couldn’t save it. He couldn’t even save himself. </p><p>‘Little Doe Eyes, you’ll never leave me, will you?’</p><p>No. </p><p>The further he ran the more strangled he felt as his lungs burned for air. Like he was running against a chain wrapped around his neck. He couldn’t get away no matter how much he struggled against it. </p><p>His legs gave way beneath him and he curled up into a fetal position. </p><p>Breathe. </p><p>Breathe. </p><p>Breathe. </p><p>Damn it!</p><p>Why didn’t Hyunjin run? </p><p>He could. </p><p>He wasn’t Jisung. </p><p>He wasn’t weak. </p><p>‘Because deep down, you know, this is what you deserve’</p><p>But the more Jisung thought about it, the less convinced he was that his original conclusion about Hyunjin was correct. </p><p>Hyunjin wasn’t the foil to Jisung at all. </p><p>They were two sides of the same spectrum. </p><p>Two kids who’d realized too young that in order to survive you couldn’t fight. So long as you let them do whatever it eventually ended, for an hour, or a day, a week if you were lucky. And if you could take your mind away to another place, even better. They knew that the people that hurt them weren’t trying to kill them, so there was no desperation to fight for their lives. Death was a trivial thing to be afraid of after too much of what the worst side of life could force down your throat. </p><p>He’d seen Hyunjin as a willing participant, but the more he knew, the more he realized how foolishly and cruelly naïve that notion was. There was no volunteering for something when it was the only option. Desperation wasn’t really a choice, was it? If survival gave you no other road to take?</p><p>Hyunjin was just falling back on what he knew. </p><p>What Jisung knew all too well. </p><p>Broken puppets playing out a well-rehearsed script. </p><p>He’d hated Hyunjin. Because Hyunjin felt like the one who got out. </p><p>Somehow, it felt worse knowing that Hyunjin was just reflection of himself. The parts of himself that he couldn’t break free of. </p><p>“Jisung?”</p><p>It was Yuna.</p><p>He squeezed his eyes shut. Hoping that she might just go away.</p><p>“I’m just going to sit down right here, okay?” She said gently. “I always feel better when someone is with me, even if I don’t talk to them.”</p><p>He heard her take a seat on the floor a short distance from him. </p><p>Yuna flubbed her lips. </p><p>“When I was a kid, after my parents died and I moved in with my Aunt and Uncle, my cousin would…hurt me. He would record it and sell it online for years.” Jisung said softly, his voice fragile. “And my aunt and uncle, just turned a blind eye to it. Acted like they couldn’t see it…couldn’t see me.”</p><p>Somehow it was easier to share his shame with a stranger. Like confession at a church. Yuna seemed like as good a person as he was ever going to meet in this life. </p><p>“And when someone came to collect a debt they owed, they just cleaned up after the mess he made. They showed clearly that they knew exactly what was going on, exactly how bad it was. And they decided to cover up their shame. Cover me up.”</p><p>Saying it out loud was weird. He’d been avoiding it for so long because he’d been afraid of what could happen if he spoke the words aloud and let the past become real. But he felt nothing. He just felt empty and numb. </p><p>“Seeing Hyunjin being hurt like that, filmed when he was at his most vulnerable point, makes me feel like I did then. Just helpless and weak.”</p><p>Like, somehow, if he couldn’t help Hyunjin, he would be no better than his aunt and uncle had been, and by leaving Hyunjin to his fate, it would be just the same as him leaving that fifteen year old Jisung to rot. Logically, he knew that it wasn’t the same thing, but he couldn’t help feeling as though it wasn’t all that different. </p><p>“I can’t make you feel any better. I wish I could. At least in part. But I can’t.” Yuna said lightly, scooching closer. “I can keep you company though, if you’d like. Just talk. You don’t even have to talk back if you don’t want. Yeji always says I’m good at one-sided conversations. But if you’d rather I left, or if you want me to just sit here quietly, I can do that too.”</p><p>Jisung was quiet for a moment. </p><p>“You can talk.” He decided. “I need to focus on something else for a bit.”</p><p>“Okay,” She said, taking a deep breath, thinking briefly before diving in. “So, I have to take this art credit for school, right? And we have this pretentious art teacher. I’m not bad at art, per say, but I’m not really great. But it’s like, this guy expects me to be the leader of the next art renaissance or something. And he’s completely tanking me for it. I swear if my blues are even slightest bit too blue, he marks it down as if I’d just threw some dirt at the canvas and turned it in. Maybe I should turn that in, wouldn’t get any worse of a mark than I’m getting now.”</p><p>She continued to go through her school day, venting about certain teachers, or gushing about her friends, or the new cat café she’d discovered recently, or the exams that were coming up. Jisung just listened to her talk, letting his mind sift through the mess it had made of itself in the last few minutes. Sweeping up the shattered bits of expectation and the splinters of his past, clearing them away to sort through later. </p><p>Eventually, he managed to sit up. </p><p>It wasn’t alright. Not by a long shot. But he could work with better. </p><p>Better was good. </p><p>“-dared me to drink the whole pitcher and they would pay for the meal. I’m not a freaking coward, so I downed that whole thing. Best meal I’ve ever had. I had to pee for the whole rest of the trip, but it was worth it. 10,000 percent would do it again.”</p><p>Jisung smiled quietly, looking over at Yuna as she animatedly described the incident Jisung had only just tuned into. He just tucked his knees up to his chest, hugged his legs, and rested his cheek on his knees, listening to this person whom he’d only known for a couple hours talk about their day. </p><p>“-it was actually painful because there were no bathrooms, like anywhere in the whole complex. I eventually had to run down the street to a corner store and bribe the cashier to let me use the employee bathroom. It was this weird old guy that tried to get my number, so I just gave him the number for the gambling helpline that was on the wall behind him. He did give me a free ice cream though, so that was cool.”</p><p>She had been right though; the distraction was helpful. </p><p>After about five minutes, Jisu found them. </p><p>“Chaeryoung got something, and you’re going to want to see it.” </p><p>“What?” Yuna asked. </p><p>“She got a location.” Jisu replied. “From where the video was taken.” </p><p>That was indeed something.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I had a hard time writing this chapter for some reason, but it turned out better than I'd thought it would. I watched quite a bit of ITZY's content to try and get a better grasp on their personalities for this chapter. Hopefully it was an enjoyable update for everyone reading. </p><p>Be back next week for a new chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Rescue Missions and Stunts That Should Not Be Attempted at Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jisung and the gang go to pick up Hyunjin from his date with near-death</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The plan was simple, sort of. </p><p>Nothing was really simple when executing a raid of an enemy territory to rescue a person who might not even still be there. </p><p>Chaeryoung had gotten the location off of the video’s data. Digging through some encryption to find it. Of course, it only meant the video from two days ago had been shot there, not that Hyunjin would still be in that location. However, that was all they had to work with, so they were running with it. </p><p>The plan was to pick up Seungmin and Felix from Seungmin’s old roommate’s apartment, to have some extra hands on deck, since stab wounds weren’t exactly something one could just walk off.  Also Yeji had bailed on them suddenly. Which was odd, since this was her brother and all, but the expression on her face said that it was a serious matter. What could be more important, Jisung could only speculate. Maybe she just trusted her team that much. </p><p>Whatever the case, Jisu was put in charge, and she agreed with Jisung’s reasoning, so that was it. He didn’t even have to use most of the bullet-points he’d prepared in his head before presenting the idea, which was mostly a relief. Still, he couldn’t help but be disappointed that he’d used up mental energy on something he hadn’t needed. </p><p>Oh, well, it wasn’t like that entire 48 hours hadn’t been exhausting already. What was a little bit more. An overflowing glass was already overflowing, if it had already made a mess, pouring in a drop more in couldn’t really do much more damage at that point. </p><p>With a loosely-plotted plan in place, they were parked in front of the apartment address Seungmin had sent to them in a decked out kidnapper van to pick up Jisung’s teammates. It was outfitted with a condensed version of Chaeryoung’s set-up back at the warehouse. There were smaller monitors and technological doohickeys, along with a lot of blinking lights. It looked like the vehicles a government agent would use in a high-stakes stake-out. </p><p>Unfortunately, the van was only equipped with a front bench that sat three. That meant, while Ryujin drove with Jisu and Yuna in the front, Jisung and Chaeryoung were sat in the back of the van on the floor, holding onto the handholds to brace around turns.</p><p>The girls in the group all just seemed to ooze real main character energy. Dressed in all black. With the gadgets. And the cool hideout. </p><p>Looking down at his own clothes. He seemed to be underdressed for the occasion. It was probably a good thing he was staying in the car, otherwise he might ruin the badass aesthetic they were going for. </p><p>Jisung couldn’t help but feel a little bit self-conscious around them. </p><p>Well, more self-conscious. </p><p>“Is that them?” Jisu asked, pointing with a pair of sewing scissors from her first-aid inventory she’d been taking while they waited for the two to come down. </p><p>Jisung crawled over to look over the back of the seats toward where Jisu had indicated. </p><p>Two figures walked toward them. One with a suspiciously large duffel over their shoulder, the other with an XL sized thermos in their hand. </p><p>“Oh, Felix made it to his supply.” Jisung commented, forgetting for a moment what he’d been asked to do. </p><p>In case of a raid, and due to his well-earned paranoia, Felix kept his stash of murder tools off-site, somewhere that not even Chan had knowledge of. Which had turned out to be a good call on his part. </p><p>“Oh, yeah, that’s them. You can let them in.”</p><p>“Awesome, we’re ahead of schedule!” Yuna chirped. </p><p>Ryujin unlocked the car and Chaeryoung pulled the door open as Seungmin and Felix came up to it, and climbed in. </p><p>“So which one is the murderous ray of sunshine?” Yuna asked, twisting around to see the new arrivals as they piled in. </p><p>“Depends on the day.” Seungmin said under his breath, closing the door behind him.</p><p>“I think that would be me,” Felix said, raising his hand awkwardly as he sat crisscrossed on the floor of the van. “I made some cookies if anyone wants some.”</p><p>He unzipped his duffel as Ryujin pulled away from the curb and started driving again, taking out a Tupperware container that sat on top of a terrifying looking machete. Peeling off the lid, he held it out to Jisung, who, never being one to turn down the offer of free food, partook in one. </p><p>“So, this is what you did with your afternoon.” Jisung commented, taking a bite of the cookie and practically melting. </p><p>“There was nothing else to do, and Seungmin’s roommate had a kitchen.”</p><p>“And apparently a thing for Australians.” Seungmin said, also taking a cookie. </p><p>“What?” Felix said, absently, passing the container up to the front. </p><p>“Nothing.” </p><p>Felix shrugged. </p><p>“Felix too?” Jisung mouthed. </p><p>“I thought that he was going to melt through the floorboards when Felix just asked where the bathroom was.” Seungmin snorted. “Maybe if I wanted him to do the dishes or clean the toilet while I lived with him, I would have brought Chan around more often. Maybe I would have faked being Australian when I moved in.”</p><p>Jisung finished his cookie as they drove along, catching snatches of the others faces in the street light. The levity had quickly dissolved into quiet and intense focus on what was coming ahead of them. </p><p>The plan was that Felix would back up Ryujin, Yuna, and Jisu as they breached the building. It was determined, the Jisu, who had more experience in the field would go in as emergency medical, instead of Seungmin, in case there was something that required immediate attention. And the fact of the matter was, they were a little bit short staffed to be infiltrating an SM facility as it was, so the more qualified boots they could put on the ground the better. </p><p>They were all way too young to be doing this kind of thing, Yuna especially. He never got the chance to ask, nor was he sure if she would divulge, why she was there in the first place. She was still in school. And yet, there she was in the front of the van singing along passionately to some ballad from a soundtrack that was blaring through the speakers as they were on their way to an after-school activity that could potentially get them killed. He couldn’t help but feel that it hadn’t been a benign reason that she was there, that something dark haunted her too. </p><p>You didn’t just end up like this without a few bumps and bruises along the way. </p><p>He took a long shaky breath, his body already buzzing with anticipation. </p><p>The ride in total took about fifteen minutes in the light evening traffic, but it felt like centuries. His nerves were tangled up in a knot by the time the creeper van came to a stop, he wasn’t sure how it could get much worse. His anxiety, however, seemed to be in a record breaking mood that night as he watched Felix and the others get fitted with in-ears and Chaeryoung set up the monitoring station. </p><p>“Codeword for danger is ‘different’,” Chaeryoung said as she connected all the earpieces to her feed. “Use it if you’re ever in a situation when you can’t speak freely. Otherwise, check in as often as you can. I’ll be listening in on my end. Be sure to report injuries too if you can.”</p><p>Everyone nodded silently, as they gathered their supplies and their nerve. </p><p>“Check-list before we head out,” Jisu called. “Yuna?”</p><p>Yuna checked herself and her bag for a moment before nodding. “I’ve got my lock-pick set, flashlight, extra batteries, my comm-set, my body cam, Kevlar vest, boots are double knotted, my taser, and I’ve got my knives too.”</p><p>“Ryu?”</p><p>“Comm-set, body cam, Kevlar, double knot, both guns, back-up knife, and some zip-ties.”</p><p>“New guy?”</p><p>“Um, I’ve got my vest, and the cam, and the comms in place,” He said haltingly. “Also have my weapons, extra rounds of ammo, and my can-do attitude.”</p><p>“Good,” Jisu said with the slightest smile. “Let’s roll.”</p><p>Without any more formalities, they slipped out of the van and Jisung, Chaeryoung, and Seungmin were left alone in the dark. </p><p>Because they were laying low and remaining inconspicuous, the car’s engine was turned off. The electronics in the back ran off of some other kind of energy that Jisung didn’t have the mind to comprehend that late at night. All he knew, was that it was fucking freezing in the back of that van, and he could see his breath. He huddled up next to Seungmin, who didn’t push him away, which was unusual, as Seungmin wasn’t the type to like skinship, but Jisung was too cold to question it. Why question it?</p><p>While Chaeryoung monitored the team, occasionally typing something, or giving brief responses over the headsets, the body cams were projected up on the monitors, showing the team’s movement through the SM compound. It seemed utterly vacant, as if they were exploring some ghost town. From what he’d heard about SM’s resources, the place should have been a zoo. But there was nothing. It gave him a bad feeling that he couldn’t reason away. </p><p>“How’s that wound holding up?” Seungmin asked quietly, allowing Jisung to fiddle with his fingers thoughtlessly. </p><p>“I tore the stitches. But Jisu fixed me up pretty well. I am sorry to mess up your handiwork. Kind of thoughtless of me considering you saved my life.”</p><p>Seungmin shook his head, laughing slightly. “You don’t need to apologize; it was shoddy work on my part. My professor would probably give me an earful about my technique. I’m just glad you’re not dead.”</p><p>“I enjoy being not dead.” </p><p>Jisung looked down at the floor. </p><p>“Can I ask you something?” Seungmin asked. “You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to.”</p><p>“Go ahead.” </p><p>Seungmin took a moment to compose the question. </p><p>“That kid from five years ago is you. That was true what you said the other night?”</p><p>“Yeah,” He said, rubbing the nape of his neck consciously. “That was me.”</p><p>“Jesus, I’m so sorry.” Seungmin said heavily, leaning back against the wall of the van. “I thought maybe you had been lying to keep his attention.”</p><p>“I wish I was that good of a liar.” Jisung snorted.</p><p>“So, all that really…”</p><p>Jisung sighed, rolling his head back. “Yeah. A lot of the juicy details are redacted for civilian consumption though. Really missed out on the best bits if you only read my Wiki page.”</p><p>“How can you be so casual about it?”</p><p>Seungmin sounded almost upset when he asked the question</p><p>“I already had my one designated breakdown for today. I don’t have the capacity to do much more than that. But we can reschedule for tomorrow, and I might be able to give more of an award worthy performance.” Jisung closed his eyes for a moment. “If you’d rather we do that.”</p><p>“You all need to get some help.” Seungmin muttered. “I thought my parents leaving me in a Lotte Mart was bad.”</p><p> “It is bad. No need to compare. Scars are still scars, no matter how deep they go.” Jisung hummed. “Wait, a Lotte Mart?”</p><p>“Yeah, I was like five or six.”</p><p>“That fucking sucks.”</p><p>“You’re one to talk.”</p><p>“Not comparing trauma, Minnie.” Jisung said liltingly, opening one eye and looking over at Seungmin. “It’s not like they’re giving out Nobel Prizes for most fucked-up childhood. I might try a little harder to ‘win’ if that was the case. Is there a cash prize with that?”</p><p>“Not sure.”</p><p>“There is.” Chaeryoung interjected without turning around. </p><p>“Oh, cool.” Jisung said. “But even if there was a prize, I don’t think I would win. At most I’d be a nominee.”</p><p>“Hey, making the podium isn’t that shabby.”</p><p>“I wonder how they’d summarize my achievement in trauma? It would get a bit long. Some sub-points under the bullet points.”</p><p>“Maybe it would be better if I won.” Seungmin said. “Then they’d only have to type the one.”</p><p>“Good thinking.” Jisung tapped the side of his nose knowingly. “And we could split the money to pay for group therapy and get lunch after the award presentation.”</p><p>“A good plan for this wildly unlikely, hypothetical scenario.” </p><p>Jisung let his attention be drawn back to the monitors, carefully following Felix’s bobbing camera as the infiltration team continued along. He watched as they peered around doors and around corners. It was still way too quiet. No movement. And really no sign of life at all. Maybe Hyunjin wasn’t there. Perhaps their hard work had been in vain after all. </p><p>That tangled ball of anxiety turned angrily in his gut. </p><p>“What’s wrong with this picture?” Chaeryoung said out loud, like Jisung, puzzling over what she was seeing being fed to them on the screen. </p><p>An empty facility could mean a number of things, none of them good. Either Hyunjin wasn’t there, and the building was abandoned. Or else they were laying a trap for them, and Hyunjin was there acting as bait, or had been moved ahead of time. A majority of the possibilities required some kind of foreknowledge that they would come to this particular facility. That thread would lead to the conclusion that SM had meant for them to find the location. And if Jisung knew anything from his series of unfortunate events that seemed to be his life, if it felt too easy, it probably was, and it was even more likely that there was some kind of nasty surprise waiting for them.</p><p>“Nobody’s home.” </p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p>Seungmin moved up into a crouch to look at what they were discussing. </p><p>“And this was the location?”</p><p>“I’m sure. Triple checked. I mean we knew he might not be here, there was always that chance. Why is it empty though?” She mused, her eyes locked on the screens, pressing down on the space bar of her keyboard. “How far are you through the sweep of the building?”</p><p>There was an unheard reply through the headset Chaeryoung was wearing. </p><p>“Almost done? Alright. Be careful, I’m getting a bad feeling about this whole thing.”</p><p>She pulled her hand away from the keyboard and sighed. </p><p>“You think this is a trap?” Seungmin asked. </p><p>“I don’t know what to think of this.” She mused. “I just don’t like it.”</p><p>That was a shared sentiment. </p><p>They watched and waited in silence, hoping for the best while they were on edge waiting for the worst to show it’s ugly face. </p><p>“Oh my God.” Seungmin breathed as Ryujin’s camera rounded the next corner. </p><p>In the middle of the room was a slumped figure, bound to a chair, under a bright industrial spotlight. Their exposed skin looked almost as though it were glowing in the harsh light from above. With the camera quality, it was impossible to say who it was, or whether they were alive. But Jisung felt a pit in his stomach, nonetheless. </p><p>“Ryujin, talk to me.”</p><p>Chaeryoung listened for a moment. </p><p>“It’s him, it’s Hyunjin. And it looks bad.” She repeated to them. </p><p>As much as he wanted to know what was happening, he wanted the cameras to be shut off. The closer they got, the clearer the picture became and the damage became visible. Dark violent bruising. Open cuts. Only patches of hair left. Blood speckled and smeared on his skin. Small cigarette-like burns. And a note, tacked onto his chest with pins buried deep into his flesh. In a word…he looked broken. It felt too voyeuristic and exploitative looking at him in this way. The damage would be enough to turn his stomach in itself, but the medium made it that much worse. </p><p>He turned away from the screen, swallowing down the bile in his throat. </p><p>“Get him…they need to get him out of there.” He whispered; his lips barely able to form the words. </p><p>One breakdown. He’d already spent it. He couldn’t be overdrawn there too, when he was overdrawn in every other aspect of his life. </p><p>‘Get yourself together’</p><p>“They’re getting him. It’s going to be alright.” Seungmin said, speaking as though Jisung were a wounded animal. </p><p>Perhaps he was a wounded animal. </p><p>“He’s still breathing and he has a pulse.” Chaeryoung relayed, her voice tense around the words. “They’re bringing him back now. Be ready.”</p><p>She directed that last bit at Seungmin. </p><p>Jisung grit his teeth and closed his eyes, trying just to breathe. </p><p>It took nearly twice as long as the initial entrance into the building for them to get out of the building. Ryujin had Hyunjin slung over her back in a fireman’s carry, Felix’s coat wrapped around his shoulders, heaving him from the building because he wasn’t conscious enough to walk. The others acted as an escort because the lack of…anything in the building didn’t sit right. </p><p>Before they even got to the van, Jisung had wrenched the door open and jumped out of it, sprinting across the lot where they were parked toward the group, his feet crunching against the loose gravel. It was though his feet were moving without a thought of what he was going to do once he got there. He just needed to know that Hyunjin was alive for himself. He didn’t even know why. He’d just lost too much  in his life. Another thing, even if it was a person that he didn’t particularly like, was off the table. </p><p>“Hyunjin!”</p><p>He stuttered to a stop in front of them. </p><p>Hyunjin’s eye cracked open. The other one sealed shut from the abuse of the last forty-eight hours. The half-mast eye looked at him, unfocused and unsure. Almost as though he had stopped trusting what his eye told his brain that he was seeing.</p><p>“Ji…sung.” </p><p>The voice croaking past Hyunjin’s lips didn’t even sound human any longer. Like it had been ripped out and torn apart.</p><p>“We need to get him back to the warehouse now.” Jisu ordered. </p><p>Jisung couldn’t move. </p><p>Hyunjin was still staring at him as Ryujin moved around him toward the van. </p><p>It was so quiet that he barely caught it, but Hyunjin whispered, “I’m…sorry.”</p><p>And like that, it felt like the ground was stolen from beneath Jisung’s feet. </p><p>No, he couldn’t breakdown again. Not again. </p><p>But everything was too heavy. It felt as though he couldn’t breathe under the weight of it. </p><p>It hurt.</p><p>“Jisung, we need to go.”</p><p>Felix was talking to him, but he almost couldn’t register it. </p><p>“Come on!”</p><p>His feet were moving again. </p><p>Felix had grabbed his wrist and was dragging him toward the van. </p><p>The drive back passed by in a blur. Jisu and Seungmin were doing what they could to clean and bandage temporarily before they got to the better supplied warehouse. Hyunjin was laid out on the floor of the van, on top of Felix’s jacket, and Jisung was curled up out of the way, just watching the hesitant rise and fall of Hyunjin’s chest, hoping that it would just keep going. That he would just keep breathing.</p><p>Just keep breathing. </p><p>They screeched into place in front of the warehouse.</p><p>Hyunjin was rushed inside before Jisung even got the chance to stand. He and Chaeryoung were left to clear out the van.</p><p>He gathered up some supplies to cart in, hoping that some business might ease his scrambled mind. </p><p>“That was too easy, wasn’t it?” Chaeryoung asked, winding up some cords as she tore down her temporary set-up. </p><p>Now brought up again, Jisung did notice that the uneasiness he’d felt during the mission was still lingering in the pit of his stomach. </p><p>“I’m going to run a sweep of the warehouse and go through the security system.” She said. “After all the noise SM has made recently, I don’t trust their silence in the least.”</p><p>That made two. </p><p>“Anything I can do?” He asked, slinging Felix’s gear-bag over his shoulder. </p><p>“Just…keep an eye out. I’ll flag everyone down if I find something. Otherwise, I don’t really want to alarm everyone, if they’re not already thinking the same, and it turns out to be nothing.” She replied, shutting her system down. “Nothing is impenetrable, not even my security system. I just don’t want to risk letting my guard down too soon.” </p><p>“Alright.” Jisung said. “Need any help carrying?”</p><p>“Nah, I’ve pretty much got everything.”</p><p>They both hopped out of the van and headed toward the warehouse. </p><p>The night was cold and the only streetlight in the dark alley they parked in was close to death, flickering and humming along to the distant chorus of the city noise. Jisung’s breath puffed out from his lips like smoke, caught in the sporadic light above them. Their footsteps across the cracked concrete was the loudest sound there, the warehouse a behemoth shaded against the dark, as if it’s presence made the world fear to be too loud. </p><p>Hopefully it would do as well to ward off any unwanted happenings. </p><p>“Wait, I forgot to lock the van, watch these for me, would you?” Chaeryoung said, dropping the items off at his feet before jogging back to the van. </p><p>He stood awkwardly in place, hunched against the chill as he waited for her to return.</p><p>The flip-phone at the top of the crate Chaeryoung had been carrying started to buzz aggressively. Figuring that just looking at the caller ID wouldn’t hurt anyone, he tentatively picked it up to check. </p><p>‘BossLady: Do Not Let Go To Voicemail’ </p><p>Unsure of how to proceed from that point, he let the phone ring, shifting back and forth between his feet and waiting for Chaeryoung to come back. But when he finally spotted her again, with the number of rings and the distance that Chaeryoung needed to cover, the call would go to voicemail. So, he braced himself mentally and answered the phone, sprinting over to meet Chaeryoung halfway.</p><p>“Finally, no one is picking up their phones. How’s everything going?” Yeji said.</p><p>He thrust the phone over to Chaeryoung, mouthing ‘Yeji’ as the phone went to her. Thanking the stars that he wasn’t forced to answer and subsequently explain himself to Yeji, who scared him a little bit. </p><p>“Hi, no, everything’s going well. We’ve got Hyunjin, and Jisu’s taking care of him right now.”</p><p>She took a couple minutes, giving a couple verbal affirmations and couple word answers to whatever Yeji was telling her. </p><p>“Yeah, I’ll be sure to tell Jisu for you. Don’t worry. We’ll head over there as soon as she gives us the ‘all clear’.”</p><p>With that, Chaeryoung hung up and slipped the phone in her back pocket. </p><p>“Alright then,” She huffed, puffing out her cheeks as she looked at her pile of stuff on the ground. “As soon as Hyunjin is fixed up and stable, Yeji wants us to head to the JYP Family home. But for now, I’ll check on things and you can rest for a bit.”</p><p>Jisung pursed his lips, wondering silently why Chaeryoung hadn’t brought up her concerns to Yeji. Apparently he didn’t need to voice his question for her to answer it.</p><p>“It’s probably nothing, so I didn’t want her to put what she was doing on hold if it turns out to be nothing.” She explained, striding over to pick up her stuff. “I just need to make sure it’s nothing. No use pulling the alarm over nothing.”</p><p>He didn’t argue with her reasoning, his grasp on the dynamic of the team was limited at best, so he would refrain from questioning something he didn’t fully understand as of yet. </p><p>They collected Chaeryoung’s things before continuing up to the warehouse once again. </p><p>Chaeryoung punched in the code and pulled open the door at the side of the building, holding it so Jisung could pass through before letting it fall shut and reengaging the lock. </p><p>Much like outside, the warehouse was rather quiet. </p><p>The hair on the back of Jisung’s neck stood on end. </p><p>He turned his head to look around, trying to find the source of what felt off.</p><p>“Get down!”</p><p>Without thinking he dropped to the floor in time for a throwing star to sail past him and imbed itself in the throat of a stranger that Jisung had missed in the darkness. </p><p>The stranger clutched at their throat, their face draining of color as blood gushed from the open wound. Before they could even make a sound, Chaeryoung had darted over behind the stranger and latched them in a hold around their neck. Her eyes, even in the dark were blazing. </p><p>She tugged the star horizontally, letting it cut through more vital veins before pulling it out and letting the body drop to the floor, her chest heaving from the exertion. </p><p>Meanwhile, Jisung only started breathing again, trying not to breathe through his nose in order to keep the smell of blood out of his lungs. But even the air had a tinge of a metallic taste that made his stomach roil. </p><p>He wasn’t even sitting up before she had set to work patting the body down and pulling off equipment, and whatever else was in their pockets methodically. She worked quickly, setting whatever she found aside, even pulling off the stranger’s gloves, checking their hands. </p><p>“It’s SM.” She murmured, letting the arm fall to the side. “Fingerprints are burned off. And where there’s one, there’s sure to be a dozen more close by. We need to get somewhere more defensible because odds are that they know we’re here already, so we can’t leave now.”</p><p>Her eyes glanced up at the red dot close to the ceiling.</p><p>“Follow me.” </p><p>One thing Jisung prided himself on was knowing when he wasn’t the most qualified person in the room. This was one of those moments, so he gladly let Chaeryoung take the lead and followed her through the dark. </p><p>As they walked, she handed him a knife that she’d pulled off the body she’d dropped just moments earlier, he was still working through seeing a corpse for the first time, so he just took it dumbly. He was glad she’d given him the knife instead of the gun because he was a terrible shot quite frankly. Plus Chan had given him some self-defense training with knives in the past. Had he retained most of it? Likely, no. But something was better than nothing. </p><p>He gripped the knife tightly. Perhaps that would keep him from spiraling too far down.</p><p>They crept low along the exterior wall of the warehouse, using the shadow and the wall behind them to shield them in the vulnerable position they were in inside the open concept building. As they walked, they could hear some talking in the distance that didn’t sound like anyone they knew. </p><p>Chaeryoung pulled them both behind a stack of crates in the far corner of the warehouse. </p><p>They crouched down, holding their breaths as two strangers passed by. Jisung peered between the gaps of the crates, adrenaline being the only thing keeping him from losing his very fragile hold on reality. </p><p>“You know what I’m feeling like right now?”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“You know that little ramen place down the road?”</p><p>“Yes! Oh, my God, I would kill for that right now.”</p><p>Nothing like discussing dinner plans while on a…whatever they were doing there. Hopefully not a murder spree. He was not looking to die in a warehouse, that was one cliché too many for his liking. </p><p>Jisung glanced away for only just a moment, looking back to check in on Chaeryoung, but when he went back to watch again a set of eyes caught his own. </p><p>The stranger put a finger to his lips with a smirk.</p><p>“Hello there, seems we missed a couple little friends.” He said. “Come on out, nice and easy, so we don’t have to make this messier than it has to be.”</p><p>Okay, time was up. No space to think. So he had to create space. It was at the core of what Chan had taught him about close-combat. Give yourself as much space as possible to work within.</p><p>So, with that guiding principle, he slipped the knife into his waistband with a silent prayer that he wouldn’t accidently impale himself and pulled his shirt over it, and slowly rose up from the ground, his hands shakily raised above his head. He heard the shuffle of Chaeryoung coming up behind him. </p><p>“There we go. No come here, slowly. I’m not going to hurt you unless you force my hand.”</p><p>“Okay.” Jisung said softly, letting himself look as scared and helpless as he currently felt. </p><p>No use putting on a brave face. There was an advantage to be had in being underestimated. </p><p>As he ducked around the crates, he examined how they were stacked and held in place. They piled up to just below the catwalk above them, four sides of rope coming together to fasten together at the top. Cutting that would make the crates too unsteady to climb, but as of then, considering that both he and Chaeryoung weren’t exactly in the heavyweight division if they were to weigh themselves in, and that the strangers had a good head of height on him and likely some weight on him too, which would be an advantage on the ground, but a detriment when going up, it seemed like the best option was to climb the stack of crates to the catwalk. There was no chance of beating the strangers in a head-on fight, even if they were both well-rested and in their peak condition, and if they stayed on the warehouse floor, they likely wouldn’t get very far. Going up was the only choice that offered them the best chance of space. </p><p>Now, he just had to get Chaeryoung on board with the idea without cluing in their new acquaintances. </p><p>Well, actions spoke better than words.</p><p>He took a shaky breath, hoping that Chaeryoung would get the gist of his plan, and jumped up on the lowest crate, clambering upwards toward the catwalk. His heart was in his throat, but he could hear Chaeryoung panting behind him as they climbed. Down below, one stranger seemed to be trying to climb up after them, while the other was firing deafening shots from their gun. </p><p>Jisung made it to the top, grabbing the railing of the catwalk and pulling himself up, bashing his face into it in the dark and in his haste to avoid being…well, murdered. Ignoring the throbbing around his nose and the spots in his vision, he leaned over to start sawing at the knot holding the crates together with the knife from his waistband, as Chaeryoung came up on the platform beside him a second later. </p><p>The stranger grew closer and closer, the frustration evident in their eyes as they fought against gravity and the wobbly structure. </p><p>“Come on.” He growled through gritted teeth, the threads snapping apart slower than he would have liked.</p><p>Finally, the rope snapped and fell away from the crates. </p><p>The whole thing began to sway dangerously, but the stranger was too close to the top. Jisung gripped the railing, swinging his legs over the edge, smashing the bottoms of his feet against the structure and pushing off with every modicum of energy he could possibly give. </p><p>With that momentum, combined with the extra weight of the stranger at the top of the tower of crates, the whole thing fell backwards like a tumbling JENGA tower. Jisung could see the genuine fear in the stranger’s eyes as they locked eyes again, this time with the tables of advantage turned on their heads. And he felt some semblance of empathy. </p><p>He didn’t relish the fear or the pain of someone else. Not even his enemy. </p><p>“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, pulling himself back up onto the catwalk, the sound of crashing debris and a gut-wrenching scream reverberating in his skull. </p><p>“It was a good move.” Chaeryoung said, helping him to his feet once again. “Now let’s move. We need to find the others.”</p><p>Somehow the words didn’t make him feel better. </p><p>But he couldn’t think anymore. There was no time for that then. </p><p>He jogged after Chaeryoung. </p><p>As they ran in the dark, Jisung could taste the tinge of blood on his tongue and feel the pounding of residual pain behind his eyes. But he would have to tuck aside his own discomfort. It could wait. </p><p>There were people who needed him. And that was enough to endure it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And here we are...</p><p>Thanks, as always for reading, hope it was a worthy update. </p><p>Be back around next week. </p><p>Until then...have a great weekend.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Sweet Reunions and Unsavory Tales</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Chan figures out what happened</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was decided. Chan was never letting Jisung out of his sight again. </p><p>“I’m fine, seriously, I just hit my face a bit.” Jisung said dismissively pushing away Chan’s hands as he inspected the tender area beneath his eyes that had started to look nasty. “It looks way worse than it is, but both Seungmin and Jisu agreed that it will probably heal up on its own. They gave me some pain meds, so I hardly feel anything right now. So, if I just ice it, my nose will heal on its own.”</p><p>That had been what Seungmin had said. It had been left off of Seungmin’s initial list, but upon some inspection, he’d determined it to be a broken nose, caused by Jisung himself, which was believable considering Jisung’s historic poor coordination, hitting his face while escaping an enemy asset. Which would explain the swelling and discoloration around Jisung’s eyes, but an explanation didn’t make Chan feel any less homicidal. </p><p>“In the past two days, when I haven’t had two eyes on you, you’ve gotten kidnapped, stabbed, and got your nose broken.”</p><p>“But I didn’t lose any teeth,” Jisung said, as if that made everything else so much better. “So, your investment into my braces wasn’t for naught.”</p><p>“You could have died.”</p><p>“But I didn’t.” Jisung laughed. “I did most of this damage myself, ironically enough.” </p><p>Chan took a deep breath, shaking his head slightly. He gripped Jisung’s shoulders tightly and pressing his forehead to Jisung’s. </p><p>“I am just relieved that you’re safe.”</p><p>“Me too. I very much like being out of harm’s way. As a general rule.” </p><p>“I’m going to go gray by thirty at the rate you kids are stressing me.” Chan murmured, closing his eyes, pulling Jisung into a hug, scared to squeeze too tight, but afraid to let him slip away again. </p><p>“If you live until thirty.” Jisung mumbled into Chan’s shirt. “You’re more reckless than I am. Trouble finds me, but you see trouble and you go up and confront it on purpose. Really, I should be the one lecturing you about stress levels.”</p><p>“Sure, sure.” </p><p>He pulled away, taking another long look at Jisung. There was no getting used to seeing him in that condition, his eyes darkened and scrapes all over him. </p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, I already said I’m fine-“</p><p>“No,” Chan interrupted. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Jisung blanched for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as he processed the question and tried to find an answer.</p><p>His expression sobered, which told Chan that the attempts at levity earlier had been a hastily constructed mask, and he was now seeing through the cracks in it. Something had happened. </p><p>“Sung, it’s alright, you know you can talk to me.”</p><p>Jisung pulled back, turning his face away from Chan. </p><p>That motion alone sent a pang through Chan’s chest. </p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“Jisung-”</p><p>“Don’t-!” Jisung started sharply, his shoulders tensing rigidly, before taking a deep breath. “Just don’t push, Chan. I’m fine. Trust me to contain my own disasters.”</p><p>“It’s not that I don’t trust you to take care of yourself…it’s that you don’t have to do it alone.”</p><p>Jisung growled in frustration, tearing his fingers back through his hair. </p><p>“Jisung-“</p><p>Chan raised his hand to pull Jisung’s fingers away. </p><p>“I said I’m fine!”</p><p>“Okay,” Chan said gently, taking a step back. “Just don’t hurt yourself. Please.”</p><p>Jisung froze for a moment, taking long shaky breaths. His hand dropped to his sides again, as if his strings had been cut. </p><p>“They filmed it.”</p><p>The blood drained from Chan’s face. Just like that, without even any further explanation, it made sense. He didn’t know if he was enraged or heartbroken by the revelation. Perhaps a combination of the two feelings. </p><p>“They hurt him…and they filmed it.”</p><p>Jisung’s breathing was becoming more unsteady. </p><p>In his head, Chan could picture the scene from years earlier. Sitting in the court room, watching the tapes being played for the jury. The sequence showing the light draining from a child’s eyes, from trying to hide their face and fight, to staring dead-eyed at the camera with no fight left in them. </p><p>“They always went for his face.” Jisung mumbled leaning heavily against the wall. “They weren’t just devaluing him to himself, they were devaluing him to others. Making him what they thought to be worthless. He never touched my face…no matter how else he would hurt me…he never did because of that same reason. To him, my…my eyes were what gave me value to him and to everyone else.” He shuddered visibly at the words that had crossed his tongue. “To them Hyunjin’s face is what made him worth anything to anyone. What makes it worse is that it’s probably what Hyunjin believes about himself. That he’s no use to anyone broken. To be reminded again and again that you are nothing unless you are profitable…you start to hate yourself no matter what. I looked in the mirror just now…and you want to know my first thought when I saw all this?”</p><p>He gestured to his face with a mirthless scoff.</p><p>“My first thought…for the briefest second…was that he would kill me for it. Then I was relieved because no one would want me now because I was worthless. I was relieved to feel worthless. You know how fucked in the head you have to be to think that? Pretty damn fucked.”</p><p>Jisung closed his fingers into a fist. </p><p>“I still can’t stand to see my face in the mirror. Not even after all these years. It still doesn’t feel like it’s mine.” He looked back at Chan, his bottom lip trembling and his eyes glassy. “I want Hyunjin to be okay. Because if he’s okay…after all of that…maybe there’s even just a little bit of hope for me too.”</p><p>What was Chan supposed to say to that?</p><p>Chan beckoned Jisung over and pulled him once more into a hug. </p><p>He could feel the sporadic thumping of Jisung’s heart, the trembling of Jisung’s tired body in his arms. Fear was such a stubborn thing, so hard to treat. It would hold on, lay dormant inside until the right combination let it loose again. It never really went away, especially fear that had been learned. Vestiges of it stayed in those dark corners and hard to reach places. </p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>He’d always meant those words. Put them into the things he did for Jisung, into the early cups of coffee, into the comforting after nightmares, into the teasing jokes and ruffles of hair, into every little part of their life. He wanted to make up for every second that Jisung had spent hurting, and more. But he’d never actually said the words aloud, always telling himself that they were implied. </p><p>Jisung was more family than he’d ever been fortunate to have. And Chan would die if it meant that Jisung never had to feel this type of pain again. </p><p>“Chan, you’re old enough to be my father. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Jisung mumbled into Chan’s shirt. </p><p>Chan chuffed, restraining himself from rolling his eyes affectionately. Instead opting to thread his fingers through Jisung’s hair.</p><p>“We’re only three years apart, Sung, and you know that’s not how I mean it. Don’t be a little shit.”</p><p>“It’s okay, you don’t have to deny it, Channie, we both know I’m irresistible.”</p><p>“God, I regret everything.” Chan groaned.</p><p>“I know.” Jisung said, nuzzling his head into the crook of Chan’s neck “And I love you too. Thank you for taking care of me.”</p><p>A lump curled up in Chan’s throat as he held Jisung close, taking in the warmth, the weight, the feeling of having Jisung safe with him again. And he swore, even if he had to physically, he would never let go. </p><p>“No problem, kiddo.” </p><p>And they stayed like that for a while. Forever, but it still seemed too short a time. </p><p>The door to the library opened, and Changbin, who’d been called in for reinforcements in the Med-Bay while the family deliberated, stepped out into the hall. He looked about as haggard as everyone, running on negative hours of sleep and even less sustenance in the last twenty-four hours.</p><p>“Hey, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”</p><p>Jisung pulled back, so Chan let his arms fall away.</p><p>“No, no, you’re fine, what is it? Is everything alright?”</p><p>Chan put on his ‘Leader’ hat, putting down the ‘Family/Friend’ hat for the time being. </p><p>“Seungmin wanted me to tell you that everyone who is well enough to be conscious is, and those who aren’t are stable and are resting in the adjoining study.” Changbin recited. “He and Jisu are switching out monitoring them, but everyone else is gathered, so you can get a good grasp on all that happened.”</p><p>“Good. Thank you. I’ll be just a second.”</p><p>Changbin nodded. “Floor’s yours when you want it.”</p><p>And just like that, Chan and Jisung returned to the library. </p><p>People were gathered like it was the Round Table or something, except with teenagers, barely-legal-adults, and the present members of Jihyo’s team perched on every surface that could possibly be used to sit on. Cross-legged on table, propped up against a wall with a foot elevated on a pillow that was placed on top of two volumes of the World encyclopedia, someone curled up in the window seat, another sat atop a half shelf of books. Everyone was tied up in bandages and painted with dried blood that had been hastily wiped away. Most of them were even changed out of their old clothes into the remnants of Chan’s childhood, the bits of it that they’d left behind to be eaten away at moths in this old place. </p><p>“Everyone taken care of?” Chan asked, doing another silent headcount.</p><p>It appeared as though Ryujin and Hyunjin were the ones that were in the study, along with Seungmin. Jisu was talking softly with Chaeryoung over in the corner, but looked up when he came in. </p><p>“Jeongin?” Chan said. </p><p>The youngest of his kids picked up his head. </p><p>“You remember how to get to the kitchen, right?” </p><p>He nodded hastily. </p><p>“Good, can you go get the loaf of bread and the sandwich meat so we can get everyone fed.”</p><p>“Yeah, sure, I can do that.” Jeongin said, popping up to his feet and striding out of the room. </p><p> Chan felt Jisung stiffen, his cool expression lowered the temperature around him by a few degrees. </p><p>He brushed a finger over Jisung’s hand lightly, giving him a look. </p><p>“It’s all good, Sung, I’ve got it handled. Trust me?” He said under his breath.</p><p>Jisung didn’t appear all that convinced, but his posture relaxed. </p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Chan cleared his throat and turned to the others.</p><p>Sana waved from the flock of her teammates.</p><p>“Alright, I’m asking for a run-down of everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours.” He said. “I’m not asking for anything sensitive from those of you aren’t affiliated with me, just an overview.”</p><p>Yuna and Chaeryoung looked to Jisu, who stepped forward. </p><p>“Jisung came to us yesterday afternoon with Ryujin,” She began matter-of-factly. “I treated the torn stitches upon his arrival.”</p><p>Torn stitches?</p><p>He gave Jisung a side eye.</p><p>“It’s fine now.” Jisung said as though the news of him ripping open a stab wound was just a footnote in the story. “When I left with Ryujin, Felix called Seungmin, and then they both went to Seungmin’s old roommate’s apartment. Apparently that roommate has a thing for Australians.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Okay,” Chan said, trying to steer the drifting conversation back on course. “Continue, Jisu.”</p><p>“When he woke up, he gave us information to aid in the search for Hyunjin’s whereabouts, more specifically your suspicions about SM.” She said. “And we were able to get through the NEO firewall and access files pertaining to Hyunjin. More specifically, a video from two days prior, whose metadata carried a location.”</p><p>That must have been the video Jisung had referenced earlier, especially judging by the shift in Jisung’s body language after the mention of it. The fiddling of his fingers with the loose thread of his shirt, and the gnawing at his lip. </p><p>“Yeji was called here, so I was left in charge. Taking that location, knowing he might not be there but also figuring we needed a few more hands, so we picked up the other two.” </p><p>That explained why Yeji hadn’t known about Felix and Seungmin when he’d asked. </p><p>“And we went to the location. The place was empty, but Hyunjin was there and in really bad shape, so we brought him back to our base. We were there for maybe five minutes before we were ambushed by SM operatives. They must’ve followed us somehow.”</p><p>That explained the plethora of injuries. </p><p>“Chaeryoung and I stayed back for a few minutes to clean out the van, and she took a call from Yeji, so everything was already happening by the time we got there.” Jisung added. </p><p>“Did the operatives say anything?”</p><p>“They were angry that Yeji wasn’t there.” Jisu said, her hand unconsciously drifting to her bandaged wrists. “And that none of us knew how to get into Chaeryoung’s computer. It seemed as though they were looking for something they thought was there, but they were also there to eliminate Yeji, and all of us who were affiliated with her.”</p><p>What could they have been looking for? Why not with Chan or any of the others? They’d gone after Hyunjin to pull Yeji out of hiding. He just happened to be the stone that hit two birds. What did Yeji have that SM would go through all those hoops just to get at?</p><p>“What were they looking for?”</p><p>Jisu shrugged. “Hell if I know. But not being able to get it pissed them off enough to fire two warning shots into my best friend, so I’d say it was fairly important.”</p><p>What was so important? </p><p>Whatever it was, he should probably have been glad that the SM assets hadn’t obtained it.</p><p>“Okay. How did you get out, and how did you find your way here?”</p><p>“Chaeryoung and I came in later, so we sort of caught them off guard.” Jisung said. “When we got cornered, we climbed up some crates to the catwalk, that’s how I bashed my face in.”</p><p>“We used the catwalks to maneuver through the building without detection and managed to find where SM had corralled everyone.” Chaeryoung added. “In which case, we dropped down and got the jump on those left to guard everyone.”</p><p>“Chaeryoung, Felix, and Yuna, took the lead on the counter-attack, giving the rest of us time to carry the others out of there.” Jisung continued. “Hysterical strength is really something, I ran 83 yards with Hyunjin on my back and barely felt it, but I could barely lug him from the van to the front door when we got here.”</p><p>“Maybe you should work out more.” Minho said from his place beside Felix. </p><p>“I will when you do.”</p><p>Chan cleared his throat to silence them, turning to Chaeryoung to continue the story.  </p><p>“Okay, Yuna and Felix gave me an opening, so I activated the failsafe and wiped my drives, setting the set-up to self-destruct, just for an abundance of caution.”</p><p>“So the information is gone now. Whatever they were after?”</p><p>Chaeryoung shifted. “If we even had it. No, the information is not gone. I have multiple drives carrying the information. And they’re all safe.”</p><p>He suspected he wouldn’t get much more beyond that.</p><p>“Alright, and then? How did you manage to find your way here?”</p><p>“Yeji gave me the address when she called me.” Chaeryoung said simply. “The others found an opening and ran. We got into the van and came here.”</p><p>“You’re sure you weren’t followed?”</p><p>“We took as many detours as we could afford to make with everyone in the condition they were in.” Jisu supplied, her tone curt. </p><p>“Got it. Thank you for your time and information.” He said, nodding his head to the girls. “As soon as Yeji is done, I’ll be sure to notify her about your arrival.”</p><p>A few moments later, after everyone settled into quiet conversations, and Jisu went back into the study to help Seungmin, Jeongin returned with the food items Chan had specified, plus some disposable plates, and some cups for water.</p><p>After cleaning off the table, Chan had it laid out for everyone. Though it was nothing fancy the kids looked too tired and scared and hungry to care about whether their food was fine dining or not. The others had been sitting in a police station for close to twelve hours, so he doubted they would be too picky either. He had Jeongin take a plate for Seungmin and Jisu, figuring they wouldn’t want to leave their patients unsupervised for too long with their injuries.  </p><p>Jisung retired with his plate to a corner next to the other Strays.</p><p>Chan took the time to head over to the study to check on Hyunjin and Seungmin, who he’d yet to see with his own two eyes.</p><p>Knocking lightly on the door as he pushed it open, Chan was met with a wave of scents that were reminiscent of a hospital. Jisu was beside the blue-haired girl, Ryujin, pressing a cool rag to her forehead. Seungmin was sat at Hyunjin’s side, just watching him sleep, making sure nothing went wrong. Like a faithful watchdog. Just sitting at his bed, looking over him, making sure nothing happened.  </p><p>And Hyunjin. </p><p>Looked to be spat out of the maw of hell. </p><p>Two days. It had only been two days. And yet, those bastards had done more damage than one should have endured in a lifetime. There was a bandage wrapped around his head, covering one of his eyes. It seemed that Jisung had been accurate in his description of the video. They did target his face. The places still visible were unrecognizable. The rest of him, while not to the extent of his facial injuries, was horrific. Bruising and cuts. Burns like cigarette burns on his collar bone. And his feet wrapped up like boots made from bandages. </p><p>Chan could see clippings of hair in the trash. </p><p>“They cut his hair with a knife.” Seungmin said, his eyes still fixed on Hyunjin. “Not a sharp or clean one. Took up patches of the scalp, and it looks like they just pulled it out with their hands at some point. Infection had started to set in when we got to him, so I’d say this was probably right around when he was taken.”</p><p>Seungmin’s voice was trying to mask the emotions, to state the facts as he was trained, but there was just the slightest wobble that betrayed him. </p><p>“I had to shave off the rest myself so we could properly deal with the damage. He wasn’t ever lucid, but I could hear his breath hitch when I did it. I don’t know if he knows that he’s safe.” He continued. “I think he thinks I was one of them. Someone there to hurt him.”</p><p>“You’re doing the best you can for him.” Chan said, laying a hand on Seungmin’s shoulder. “And he’ll know that when he wakes up.”</p><p>Not if, when. It had to be when. If it wasn’t, Chan wasn’t sure what he would do. </p><p>“Thank you both for taking care of him.”</p><p>As he left, he was met outside the study by Yubin. </p><p>Her eyes told him that he needed to hear something. </p><p>“They’ve discussed it, and they’ve asked you to return to the table.” She said lowly, so that others wouldn’t overhear. </p><p>“Thank you. I’ll be right up.”</p><p>Taking one last look over everyone, he silently slipped out of the library to head back to where he’d left his siblings over two hours earlier. </p><p>No one turned their head at his arrival, his siblings just sat with their eyes forward. This was business to them, nothing more, nothing less. And as such, they couldn’t afford to bring their emotion or weaknesses into this. Which also meant they acted like well-trained business robots. </p><p>They were that. A little less human than everyone else. </p><p>“Well?” He said, not bothering to take a seat before speaking. </p><p>Jihyo looked to Sunmi who met Chan’s eyes. </p><p>“They’ve all agreed to a temporary alliance of resources as of this moment, which will be dissolved upon the elimination of the current threats.” Sunmi said. </p><p>That was all he could ask from them. The trust they had with one another was destroyed beyond repair, so this shaky alliance was about as much trust as they could afford to give.</p><p>“Thank you.” He said, dipping his head. </p><p>Sunmi nodded in acknowledgement. “It is the most strategically advantageous move for the time being. I can offer up this house as a sort of base camp for the time being.”</p><p>“Do the rest of you agree to using this place for now?”</p><p>There were stiff jerks of their heads to the affirmative. </p><p>That was that then.</p><p>“Yeji, Jisu and the others arrived and are waiting for you in the library.”</p><p>Yeji got up wordlessly and left. Her expression unreadable. Relief? Anxiety? He could hardly tell. </p><p>“Jaebeom, Younghyun, can you call your teams here?”</p><p>Younghyun nodded. </p><p>Jaebeom shook his head. “I split my team up. They’ve been sent on their way. I can ask, but I will not guarantee their cooperation.”</p><p>“That’s fine.” Chan said, figuring the numbers in his head before turning to Jihyo. “We’ll start up efforts again in tracking down the rest of your team.”</p><p>And so it began. </p><p>He couldn’t help but feel like he was in a fantasy movie. The moment just before the final battle where everything was still, waiting to tip. Their groups stood together at the edge of the dark, bloodied and weary, hoping their tired and ragged joint forces would be enough to combat whatever lurked beyond that point. </p><p>This moment was them plunging into the dark. He wasn’t sure that this would be enough. But it was all he could do.</p><p>So there they went. </p><p>He just hoped he wasn’t leading them to the slaughter.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here we are!!</p><p>Update next week at this same time. </p><p>Have a good weekend!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Swapping Information and Revealing Secrets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Chan holds two meetings, and blames himself for too many things</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With the new alliance now in place, Chan called all those that weren’t injured (aside from Jihyo who needed to be there) into the drawing room for a bit of a strategy meeting. A sharing of helpful information, with the strict policy that anything learned would not be used to the detriment of anyone in that room. He knew the rest of his siblings knew better than to break an oath made to Sunmi. </p><p>He’d sent Jisung and Felix up to his old room to rest for a bit. Also to keep Jisung and Jeongin separate for the time being, so the others wouldn’t question anything, or why they were so tense, until he had time to get them all alone to explain everything properly. Something he was not particularly looking forward to, but something that unfortunately had to be done. </p><p>Everyone stood facing one another in dead silence. </p><p>Yeji stood with the younger girl, Yuna, who was the only one from her group uninjured in the attack on their base. He eyes were rimmed with red, but her expression remained stoic. She appeared almost carved of stone, unyielding to whatever emotion was tearing through her insides. But she’d always been like that. You’d never see her visually admit to feeling anything. Except anger, you always knew when she was pissed off. But since she wasn’t angry, Chan couldn’t begin to prescribe what was going on in her head.</p><p>Jihyo was sat down, the rest of her members surrounding her, almost like a security detail, standing in the gap between her and the others in the room. She had to have been nearly burned out, running on fumes (probably a bad expression to use all things considered). He doubted she hadn’t gotten much rest that wasn’t medically induced to cope with the amount of pain she had to have been in. That lack of rest and meaningful sustenance was taking its toll, but Jihyo was nothing if not stubborn. It would take the entire legion of demons to pull her to hell. And even then, she would spit in the face of the devil when she got there.</p><p>Jaebeom looked more or less like one should when one was the only person that hadn’t gone through the ringer over the past forty-eight hours. Physically intact, but visibly uncomfortable. Though most would not be able to read his discomfort, covered by years of training. But Chan could see it. The subtle tap of his finger on his thigh. The interval of blinking more frequent. His face otherwise impassive. He looked like someone who was acting cool, calm, and collected, rather than actually being so. </p><p>Perhaps Jaebeom had started to care about them after a decade. If, so, it was about time considering he’d snuck rat poison into Chan’s water bottle on two occasions. The first time was scary, but the second time, when he’d started to feel ill during an exam, it was just annoying because he knew it wasn’t a lethal dose. He waited until after the exam was finished to drive himself to a clinic. And he’d still managed to get the top grade in the class for that test. </p><p>And Younghyun, well, he was his usual self. Unbothered. Not much ever seemed to affect him. At least not on the outside. To the point where even their father had him tested to figure out if there was something wrong with him. There hadn’t been anything wrong, beyond the obvious (or not obvious to professionals who might’ve intervened) emotional abuse and trauma. He just put it in a box, deciding not to feel the feelings typically associated with the situations he endured. While Jaebeom acted like he was okay, Younghyun believed he was okay. The difference was the subtle line between suppression and denial. </p><p>Sunmi hadn’t been around much, even when they’d lived in the house at the same time. But despite barely seeing her, Chan trusted her more than any of the others in that room. The moments he had spent with her, and the other girls she kept in her company, he’d felt the safest he’d ever felt in his life. It was like her presence warded off the evil that surrounded him. And those she drew to her evoked such an aura of safety, that it felt like he’d known them forever, rather than just a couple moments in his lifetime. He’d trusted Hyerim to get him out of the police station without even thinking. </p><p>Altogether, he didn’t know what that made them. Maybe just a whole bunch of emotionally stunted adults with daddy issues trying their best. And failing. </p><p>“So,” Chan said, figuring the whole thing had to start somewhere. “Yeji.”</p><p>Yeji turned her head, her expression unchanging. </p><p>“Jisu told me that the SM were after something they believed you had. Did they ever contact you prior to your team getting to Hyunjin? Their taking of Hyunjin wasn’t for me, it was to get at you, why?”</p><p>“Yes, they contacted me when they first took him.” She said coolly. “That’s why I moved my team to ground. I don’t know how they got my contact information.”</p><p>“What did they say?” </p><p>“That I could get him back by giving them the information they wanted.”</p><p>“What information? This thing doesn’t work unless we know why SM targeted you for it.”</p><p>She met his eyes fiercely. </p><p>“Dad.”</p><p>Through it were quiet, it seemed like the hush got louder. As if hearts stopped in their chest.</p><p>Younghyun was the first to speak. </p><p>“What the fuck do you mean by that?”</p><p>“Dad’s not alive. Don’t worry.” She said, rolling her eyes, as if their trust issues revolving their father were overdramatic. Which maybe they were. But Chan wouldn’t have put it past the old man to fake his death. Hell, he could have heard that his father had resurrected himself with the power of being rich and having influence, and he would barely have been surprised. </p><p>“Well thank God.” Jaebeom muttered. </p><p>Out of all of them, Jaebeom’s relationship with their father had been the most strenuous, a truly impressive feat with a baseline like theirs for fucked up family dynamics. </p><p>“What I mean to say is all of Dad’s personal information. Properties. Investments. Business dealings. Partnerships. Hell…even his offshore accounts.” She said. “But I can’t get into it. It’s encrypted beyond belief.”</p><p>“Did you ever have Chaeryoung try to get in?” </p><p>She shook her head. </p><p>“How would SM even know about that?” Jihyo pitched in. “Or that it was with Yeji? From what I’m gathering, they targeted her. Or someone they knew she would care about.”</p><p>They all looked to Yeji for an explanation. </p><p>“I don’t know how they know. All I know is that what’s on that drive is worth more the SM than our fortunes. It wouldn’t matter which one of us won out in taking over the company if SM got that information and managed to decrypt it.” </p><p>Chan churned the information around in his head. </p><p>So, YG wanted them dead. Evident enough in their blowing up of Jihyo’s apartment, and the attack at the hospital. Nothing about that screamed that they knew about this information Yeji claimed to have. </p><p>And SM wanted information. </p><p>The Red Velvet team had said that they were going to bring them in when they’d attacked Sana and himself a few nights ago. But if they were already targeting Hyunjin to get at Yeji that night, why would they come after him? Maybe Sana knew something? In that case, why wait until he’d shown up to get to her?</p><p>What could he have possibly had that would compel SM to make him a target when they should have had everything they needed to secure what they wanted?</p><p>He thought back to every interaction he’d had with his father. Something he might’ve said to Chan. Anything that might explain why. </p><p>“Hey, Channie, you still with us?” Younghyun said, waving his hand in front of Chan’s eyes. </p><p>“Yes, sorry, I was just thinking about something.”</p><p>“Care to share with the class, little brother?” </p><p>“Around the time of the explosion, and both abductions of my kids, SM’s Red Velvet unit attempted to take both Sana and I from a meeting we were having.” He explained. “I’m just trying to figure out why. If they were after Yeji, what good would it have been to take me?”</p><p>Nobody had an answer right away. </p><p>“You knew where Jisung was because of the leak.”</p><p>Minho made a noise of surprise, reminding Chan that he also hadn’t mentioned the mole situation to anyone else in the group aside from Jisung. Add that to the pile of things he’d need to address later. </p><p>“And you knew I would be away from my team because of that as well.” He addressed that to Jihyo and Sana. </p><p>“And SM had that information to get to Hyunjin, which was a tactic to get Yeji to hand over the information they wanted.”</p><p>That was to no one in particular. </p><p>“Our father didn’t say anything to you, give anything to you, at all?” Sunmi asked. </p><p>“Maybe they just wanted a red herring to distract the rest of us.” Jaebeom suggested. </p><p>“No, you wouldn’t care if they took me or killed me. Less work for you.” Chan said distractedly. </p><p>Nothing seemed to click. Maybe he was over thinking it. </p><p>“It’s the penthouse.” Jihyo said, as if she had a sudden realization. “You have the access code to the penthouse. And that night would be one time that nobody else would be there, which they would know from the information that was leaked. The next time would be when we were at the station. The penthouse was empty, and they had a warrant to search, so they wouldn’t even need to worry about security. It’s beyond simple to implant one of their own loyalists or to bribe someone on the force.”</p><p>Wait. </p><p>“What other thing could it be? I mean, if it was something else, they could have easily gotten to you at the police station.”</p><p>What was in the penthouse that they could want?</p><p>Nothing came to mind. </p><p>If Jihyo was correct, than it would have to have been something their father had left hidden there. Again that prospect was not something that surprising, but it was troubling considering the importance of what he’d left Yeji. </p><p>“Where did you find the drive?” He asked Yeji. </p><p>“I cleared my place for listening devices, cameras, anything else that could be a prospective security risk as soon as I arrived. I found it behind one of the electrical sockets.” She said simply. “I take it the rest of you didn’t.”</p><p>It seemed their propensity to try and get under each other’s skin hadn’t completely died out. </p><p>“Well, my apartment is in ruins now, so if SM wanted anything from me, they lost their chance. But now that SM is mentioned, they were staking out my apartment before the whole incident.”</p><p>She gestured vaguely at her bandages limbs. </p><p>“Hyun, JB? Care to contribute to the effort?”</p><p>“Not particularly,” Younghyun said. “But I will. I never found anything because I never went to the penthouse I got. Moving was too much of a hassle and I liked my crappy apartment. If it is in the penthouses, it would make sense why they’d never go after me.”</p><p>“JB?”</p><p>“I sold mine as soon as I got it. Never even stepped foot in the place.” He said gruffly. </p><p>Then the only targets from SM were the ones that actually moved into the penthouses. Which made Jihyo’s theory even more credible. </p><p>“Okay, so what is our father gave you all just incomplete data on the drives. You’d need all five to be able to access the documents.” Sunmi suggested. “Like one of those maps where you have to layer them on top of one another to see it.”</p><p>“Is that even possible electronically?” Jihyo asked. </p><p>Chan turned to Jeongin, who was the only one in the room with the technical know-how to answer such a query. </p><p>He looked almost shocked that Chan would turn the question over to him. His eyes wide and round. </p><p>Nothing was fixed yet, that was a long road to travel, but this was just business. And in business, there was almost never trust. Just the understanding that if someone took you down, you’d pull them right along with you. Jeongin knew that one more mistake wouldn’t be in his favor. </p><p>And they would always double check with Chaeryoung after. Which Jeongin likely also realized. </p><p>“Um…yeah, I guess you could. Split up the code into fragments. But I don’t know anyone who would do that. It’s a complicated process to both implement and re-piece together after the fact. Not very practical.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, you’ve never met our father.” Chan said.</p><p>“He was as paranoid as he was narcissistic.” Younghyun scoffed. “I would barely feel a stretch if I had to try and reach for that.” </p><p>There was a rumbled of agreement with that statement.</p><p>“If this all is something…they likely already have whatever Chan had.” Yeji said. “Assuming all that, the last piece they would need would be from me. Or rather, Chaeryoung.”</p><p>“It looks like it.” Chan said. </p><p>“So, we’re just working off of theories right now.” Jaebeom said. “And we’re all just okay with it. Not exactly the solid plan I was hoping for.”</p><p>“Yes, cause out of all of us you had the most impulse control and affinity for planning. I recall no instances where you went into something blind.” Jihyo snorted. “Don’t play all high and mighty now, JB. It’s not flattering on you and it doesn’t even fit.”</p><p>Jaebeom rolled his eyes. </p><p>Honestly, that was their family’s most utilized form of non-verbal, passive aggressive communication. </p><p>“Okay…even if all that is true. A big if. We still haven’t thought about YG. They do still want to kill us.” Jaebeom replied flatly. “And the Dragon is back with them, so it’s not like their insignificant.”</p><p>He did have a point…regretfully. </p><p>And they still hadn’t even touched on how SM even knew about the existence of these drives in the first place. Maybe someone from JYPE’s inner circle. The balding execs in the top offices. Or an ex-JYP affiliate. He knew of a couple. Jeon Somi was now with YG, sort of, more of an affiliation than anything. But he didn’t know anyone that jumped to SM.  </p><p>He hadn’t known about a drive, so Jeongin couldn’t have either, so he couldn’t have told them. </p><p>But maybe the answer was indeed the simplest. A paranoid narcissist couldn’t resist telling about his brilliant idea. Thinking that he’d found the foolproof way to hide whatever it was, and his pride egging him on to gloat about it. </p><p>That was probably it now that he thought of it. </p><p>“So, we split into groups. Once we have a count on who all we’re working with.” Jihyo said. “One keeps tabs on YG. Keeps them busy while the other team secures Yeji’s drive. And if we can spare it, we could have a third group dedicated to taking SM on a wild goose chase.”</p><p>Okay, they were getting somewhere. </p><p>“We can start with having people assigned to tracking down Jihyo’s group.” Chan said. “One of yours can take the lead on that. And I’m sure Jeongin can be of some assistance in the realm of tech support.”</p><p>Jihyo nodded. </p><p>“Sana, Tzuyu, you start on that. And I’ll take your tech kid too.” Jihyo said, delegating from the comfort of her chair. “Where should they set up?”</p><p>“There’s a study on the second floor. It gets the best service somehow, but only if you leave the door open.” Sunmi said. “Yubin can take them there. The tech is a bit dated, but it should still work to you purposes.”</p><p>Yubin stepped away from Sunmi, beckoning for the elected three to follow her out of the room.</p><p>“Now, we can assign people to the YG group and the SM group.”</p><p>“Since SM is after me anyway, I can put what’s left of my team on it. Once Hyunjin wakes up, maybe someone can get some information from him.” Yeji said. </p><p>Chan clenched his jaw. </p><p>His protective side and his logical side were battling it out in his head. On one hand, the information Hyunjin could give them might be useful in figuring out the power structure, the group dynamics, and the strategies SM employed. But on the other, more human, hand, making him relive all of that again could possibly just traumatize him more than he already was. Part of him wanted Hyunjin to stay asleep so he wouldn’t have to decide. </p><p>“Younghyun, you and your team can be on SM duty for now.” Chan said. “Since you and Yeji have already been trading information.”</p><p>“Sounds good.” Younghyun said, clapping his hands together. </p><p>“You can start setting up in the dining room for now. Yeeun, would you mind helping to unload the equipment from the van for them?” </p><p>Yeeun shrugged. “Yeah, alright. Come on, kids, this way.”</p><p>“I am twenty-six.” Younghyun muttered. </p><p>As the four of them left the room, Jaebeom, Jihyo, Chan, and Sunmi all looked at one another. </p><p>“Minho, Changbin, can you go check on Felix and </p><p>“I guess that puts us on YG duty, huh?” Jihyo said grimly, her fingertips ghosting over the bandages on her arm. </p><p>“I guess so,” Jaebeom said. “Anything else to say, Channie?”</p><p>Chan shook his head. </p><p>“But I need to go talk to the kids. There’s some things we need to settle before we can get going on this whole thing.” He said, dreading the conversation more than he usually dreaded the almost certain death that he found himself facing.</p><p>“Trying to worm your way out?” </p><p>“Believe me, I would rather do this shit than have this talk, but if I want the best output for my team, I need to rip this particular band-aid off.” He muttered scrubbing his face with his hands, delaying the inevitable for as long as he possibly could. “Be right back. Feel free to start without me.”</p><p>There were some snarky comments aimed at his back, but he barely heard them as the door shut behind him and cut them off abruptly. </p><p>From the drawing room, he wound his way through the house, unconsciously taking the longer route to get to where he was going. He took a tour around the back of the house, up the furthest flight of stairs. While this didn’t make him proud, it did give him some more time to mentally write a script in his head for what he could possibly say.  </p><p>By the time he made it up to the designated room, he’d come up with almost less than nothing, and was feeling worse about this whole thing than he had been before. </p><p>He took a deep breath before knocking on the door. </p><p>“Come on in, the water’s great!” Jisung called through the door. </p><p>Chan shook his head, pushing into his old room. </p><p>“Hey, kids, I’m home.” He said lightly, his stomach twisted up. </p><p>It looked like it had when he’d left it. Except the bed was a mess of covers, there was a layer of dust, and four other human beings in it. Everything, though it was a large room, felt somehow confining. As though the walls of this house closed in on him no matter where he was.</p><p>“Where’s Jeongin?” Jisung asked. </p><p>“He’s working with some of Jihyo’s team to track down their members that are MIA right now.” Chan replied simply, already exhausted by the conversation before it had really even started.</p><p>Minho looked between them with narrowed eyes.</p><p>“So, what was it you were saying about a leak earlier?” He said pointedly. “And why didn’t you say anything earlier?”</p><p>There it was. He could always count on Minho to say exactly what he was thinking. No bush beating required. </p><p>“I’ll tell you.” Chan said. “Just as long as you let me do it from start to finish. And if you have questions or whatever, ask them then. Can we agree to that?”</p><p>Minho and Jisung nodded. Changbin and Felix looked concerned. </p><p>“Alright,” He sighed. “Here we go.”</p><p>So, he told them everything. The traitor. The leaks. The payments. The reasoning. And the consequences. </p><p>The others listened without comment, their faces a mix of emotions. Betrayal. Anger. Sadness. Vindication. Until Chan finally petered to a stop as he waited for their judgement. </p><p>He expected them to blame him. He blamed himself. He’d brought Jeongin into this team, in some ways, in many ways, he had a share in the events that had played out. The hurt that had been caused. Because this…this landslide all traced back to him. To the moment he decided that he could trust his gut. That he could trust someone else. His hubris was about as much to blame as Jeongin was.</p><p>“You’re telling us all this,” Minho said, his tone dark, as if shading the hurt in his voice could hide it completely. “While he’s still in this house, still involved with everything. Do you really expect us to be okay with this?”</p><p>“No, I don’t expect you to be okay, or to even forgive him yet.” Chan said heavily. “Or me. And I’m sorry that it got to this point in the first place. You can leave if you need to. I won’t fault you for that, and you’ll still receive the full extent of your payment for your service. I’ll even arrange travel or accommodations should you choose that.”</p><p>“We’re not leaving.” Changbin said, standing up from where he’d been sitting on the edge of the bed next to Felix. “At least I’m not.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Don’t take this as forgiveness for him. I’m staying for Hyunjin and for Jisung, and for the rest of these assholes.” He replied gruffly, gesturing broadly. “What Jeongin did, whatever his reasons, was seriously fucked up, and there’s no way he didn’t know, at least in part, that doing what he did would get people hurt. Killed even. I don’t care whether he’s sorry about it now because he cares about them now or some shit. I don’t even care that he betrayed me. You don’t screw over your team, and you certainly don’t screw over people whose shit you don’t know a thing about.”</p><p>Changbin locked eyes with Chan. </p><p>“I understand why you waited to tell us, all that’s been going on. And I sympathize for the kid and what he’s gone through. That’s shit. But you don’t let your shit hurt others. You don’t use someone else’s blood and body to fix your problems.”</p><p>“I’m staying too.” Felix said softly, his gaze darting over to Jisung, as if they silently spoke to one another. “At least until I know Hyunjin is well and recovered.” </p><p>Minho turned his head away. “I’m staying if they’re staying. Somebody’s got to take care of them.”</p><p>“Minho, that was a bit far.” Jisung said, grabbing Minho’s arm.</p><p>“You got hurt!” He snarled, shaking Jisung off of him, his entire body trembling. </p><p>“Min-“</p><p>“You got hurt because of this. Hyunjin got hurt. I’m not fucking letting that happen again.” He said, his voice icy. “I thought he could do that, but clearly I was wrong.”</p><p>“You’re not being fair.”</p><p>“I’m the only one being fair.” Minho said, stepping away, eyeing Chan. “I’m going to go get some air. Try not to get them killed while I’m gone.”</p><p>With that he stepped past Chan and out the door. </p><p>Jisung stood up quickly, swaying for a moment before starting after Minho. </p><p>“I’ll try and talk to him.” He whispered in passing. </p><p>The thing was Chan wasn’t sure that he deserved to be defended. </p><p>Minho was mostly right. </p><p>Just because it hadn’t been his intent, didn’t mean that it wasn’t his fault. </p><p>The kids had gotten hurt. Had been hurting. Had hurt one another in order to stop their own hurt. All under his watch. And he hadn’t realized the depths of it, what went on outside his own head, until too late. </p><p>And he’d managed to ruin the last good thing in his life. </p><p>That was just like him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A bit of an early update, but I'm about to get swamped with school and a new job, and I wanted to get something out for everyone. </p><p>Speaking of that, I might not be able to post next week, all depends on whether or not I can get something of good quality out in time or not. Hopefully I can. Whatever the case is, I'll be posting the week after as usual. </p><p>Thank you for reading. And I hope you'll be understanding any potential delay.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Balcony Commiserations and the Beginning of the End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jisung and Minho swap stories, and realize just how messed up they both are</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Minho was on a stray balcony, tucked away on the far dusty corner of the house that seemed to have been vacant of human presence for a long while before Jisung and Minho got there. There were dents in the walls and notches in the doorframes, saying just how long it had been. There were initials carved there. </p><p>Jisung’s fingers ghosted over the B.C. before heading outside. </p><p>Minho's back was against the railing, his head tilted up to the sky with his eyes closed, the night breeze ruffling through his hair. </p><p>This far out into the country, you could actually see the stars, uncovered from the pollution of the city. And the cold was unhindered by buildings, built up in the trees that bordered the edges of the vast property, and vacant of the familiar smells of wet cement and that inexplicable city smell that really had no name. Everything about this place was so unfamiliar. So open, yet at the same time suffocating. </p><p>Jisung shivered as he stepped quietly out into the open air. </p><p>“Minho.” He whispered, as though he might shatter something by speaking too loudly. </p><p>“Did Chan send you after me?” He asked lowly, picking at his fingers passively. </p><p>“No.” </p><p>Minho’s chin dropped down and he opened his eyes. </p><p>“Wanna sit down?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>So he did. </p><p>And they sat there. Silent. And unmoving. </p><p>Jisung waited for Minho to break the silence. Waited until he was comfortable enough in his presence to talk. Or not talk. Whatever he needed. </p><p>He wasn’t sure exactly if that’s what Minho needed. Wasn’t sure if he knew what being a friend was like yet, having very few experiences to draw upon. His instincts weren’t well-crafted, and he wasn’t sure if he could trust anything that he thought, but those thoughts and instincts were all he had. Lacking though they were. </p><p>So he did. </p><p>He waited. </p><p>Jisung was good at silence. He liked the quiet. It was uncomplicated. Words. People. Noise. It just made things messy. All tangled up. Confusing. It was simple in the quiet. Just like it was simple in the dark. It might be scary to some. Uncomfortable. But there were no shadows in the dark. His eyes couldn’t play tricks on him in the dark. Illusions. People. Light. It just made things scary. </p><p>Silence and darkness were about as close to peace as Jisung could get. </p><p>But people liked to talk. Needed to talk. Just like they needed light to see. </p><p>And he knew that. Understood why.</p><p>He did that. Talking to Yuna back in the warehouse. </p><p>Who was he to begrudge anyone of that? </p><p>“How can he let the kid stay?” Minho said finally. “After everything he’s done.”</p><p>It was a good question. One Jisung was still wrestling with understanding. He trusted Chan, but he’d also been burned enough times to know when he was tempting fate by standing too close to the fire. </p><p>But two people having a mental breakdown on a balcony was one too many. He’d have to pretend to be mentally stable for Minho and worry about his own conflicting emotions later.</p><p>“Jeongin is still good at what he does.” Jisung replied. “I don’t think he’ll do it again though. Now that he knows us. And knows that we know. It would be asking for death, quite honestly. And I don’t think the kid is that stupid.”</p><p>“Still stupid enough to pull that shit.”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess so.” Jisung said, laughing awkwardly. </p><p>“But you already knew before Chan told us.” Minho said. “You didn’t seem surprised. Why?”</p><p>Jisung knew Minho was observant, but the bluntness with which he shared his observations often took Jisung aback for a couple seconds. </p><p>“When you all were arrested and Felix and I were hunkered down in Ms. Na’s apartment. I was given a note from Chan. All coded and shit, which was annoying, but he told me the important bits. The leak, who had the information, who sold us out, and that Chan and Hyunjin are technically sort of related.”</p><p>“Wait-what?”</p><p>“Yeji, Chan’s adopted sister, is Hyunjin’s biological twin sister. They were separated when they were both around fifteen. House fire.” Jisung explained.</p><p>Minho chewed on that information for a moment. </p><p>“And I already thought they’re family was straight out of a drama.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I’ll be damned.”</p><p>“Yeah, that was about my reaction to that too.” </p><p>After his early bout with unfortunate circumstances, Jisung had truly thought his life couldn’t get any more of a daytime movie than it had been. He’d been wrong. There was so much more strangeness in the world. Secrets and drama that he hadn’t even realized had been there. His life had been a horror story. But there were so many other genres at play around him. And he’d collided with Chan’s storyline, and ended up in this situation. With a hole in his side, a traitor, and a murder syndicate with the desire to kill him for his proximity to Chan’s brand of drama. </p><p>It was more than he’d bargained for when Chan had rescued him those years ago. </p><p>He thought he might finally find some semblance of quiet. But the noise never stopped around Chan. Sirens. Gunshots. Screams. </p><p>“How are you so okay?” Minho asked. </p><p>“Hmm?” </p><p>“Jeongin betrayed us. And it nearly got you killed.”</p><p>“I’ve almost died before. It’s not so bad.” Jisung said, looking up at the star laced sky. “And I haven’t been okay for a long time. You’ve never met me okay, so you’re qualifications of my ‘okay’ are a bit skewed.” </p><p>“Maybe. Still doing better than I would be doing.” Minho said. “I lost my spleen and was in a coma for a week because of an accident that was my fault, and I’m still not over it.”</p><p>“You were in an accident?” </p><p>He’d known Minho didn’t have a spleen, and that he’d been in a coma at some point, due to him mentioning it off-handedly before. But being himself, he hadn’t stopped to think of why that would be. He’d just let that information be. Then again, he had a weird bar for things that gave him pause. </p><p>“Yeah, I was sixteen or seventeen. Wasn’t paying attention. This dog ran in front of my car as I was crossing the bridge. I swerved to miss it…”</p><p>He used his hand to mimic a car plummeting off the bridge. “Fucked myself up pretty bad. Was in a coma for about four months. Somehow…I woke up. I’m told I’m lucky. Most people who fall into a coma for that long don’t wake up. And certainly don’t make a full recovery.”</p><p>Jisung turned to look at Minho, trying to read his expression in the dark. </p><p>They all had shit. Jisung never thought to wonder what Minho’s might have been. But that was his personality. Diversionary. Almost like slight of hand. Directing your attention to something else to keep you from wondering about what was happening elsewhere.</p><p>“Lucky. Sure. That was a good one.” He continued miserably. “My parents had been on vacation, some fucking inner-peace, no-tech retreat, and hadn’t gotten the calls from the hospital. It was three weeks before they realized where I was. And in the three months, they visited the hospital once…to see how much it was going to cost them to keep me alive. And that was only because they couldn’t do it over the phone.</p><p>His outburst was starting to make sense. Guilt was a fucking asshole to fight. Especially when something was your fault, as this situation seemed to be. </p><p>Jisung never got the chance to hide his trauma, it was on display for the court of public opinion since he’d gotten his freedom. An unforeseen cost, His trauma was in open air, and he had to repeat it over and over. Repeated time and again. Just to get the longest sentence he could possibly manage to get for the people who caused it, which was laughable in the end.</p><p>But the shame and guilt clung on to him. It ate him alive. </p><p>And it seemed Minho’s was going through a similar metaphasis. Reaching the point where it was impossible to keep it in any longer.</p><p>“So, I moved out. Why be somewhere where you’re not missed? Started working on cars, in a weird twist of irony, since the guys at the shop didn’t care about how old I was, just as long as I could do good work. Worked enough to afford some shithole with some shit roommates and my cats. To buy that car I drive from the owner of the shop.”</p><p>Minho let out a shuddering sigh. </p><p>“I found out later that the person behind me swerved to avoid me, hit a patch of ice, and went into a tree on the other side of the bridge. They…they died on the way to the hospital that night.”</p><p>Emotion was drained from his voice. He just sounded tired.</p><p>“No matter what I do. I can’t be ‘okay’. </p><p>“You don’t have to be okay.” Jisung said gently. “Just a little bit better than you were before.”</p><p>“Yeah…how do you do that exactly? Is there some kind of manual or online course? A seminar?”</p><p>“No, but there’s a newsletter.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“No. You just sort of have to figure it out as you go. Which is gross, but pretty much is the only option.”</p><p>“I thought you might say that.” Minho said mirthlessly. “Any tips?”</p><p>“Not really. I’m not quite sure how I got this far honestly.”</p><p>“Makes two of us.”</p><p>Jisung laughed. </p><p>The sound was jarring. But not unwelcome after the week he’d been having. </p><p>As it died off, Jisung was painfully aware of his solo performance of levity. He felt heat of embarrassment creep up in his cheeks. </p><p>He felt Minho staring at him. Like he tended to do when he thought Jisung wouldn’t notice. But Minho had a bit of a heavy gaze, not that it was cold or in any way unfriendly. Though it could be. You knew it when he was looking at you. Something about him made his presence known. </p><p>“Why did you stop that night?” Jisung asked. </p><p>The question had nagged at him for the past few years. Why had Minho pulled over to help him? Knowing Minho, even a little better, it seemed uncharacteristic for him to pull over and let someone unknown into his space. And giving Jisung his number for later. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t fit the Minho Jisung knew. </p><p>It seemed as good a time as he would ever find to ask the question. Privacy was a rare occurrence even before this whole mess started.</p><p>“I don’t know honestly.” Minho said, shifting in place. “Against my better judgement quite honestly, look where we are now.”</p><p>“No kidding. Bad call on your part.” Jisung said, feeling a weird heaviness in his chest at the sound of the words. </p><p>What had he been hoping Minho would say?</p><p>Something sappy. Or profound. Poetic. Something about how Jisung was worth his time. Was worth anyone’s time. That he wasn’t a waste. Or a regret. Or a burden. </p><p>“Nah, it was one of my better calls actually. My judgement is notoriously bad.” Minho said, bumping Jisung’s shoulder with his own. “Still ended up here. But I’d rather be here, in this shit, with you than…wherever the hell I might have been otherwise.”</p><p>“Don’t talk shit.”</p><p>“I’m not.” </p><p>There it was. </p><p>That rare softness in Minho’s aura. </p><p>Minho was serious. </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Just don’t go running around and telling everyone. I’ve worked hard to craft my image as a lone wolf. I don’t need you going and ruining it.”</p><p>Jisung smiled. “Got it. My lips are sealed.”</p><p>Minho let out a short huff. </p><p>“Let’s get inside, I’m fucking freezing.” He said, pulling Jisung up after him. “And I want to go down to check in with Seungmin and Hyunjin.” </p><p>Minho opened the door, gesturing for Jisung to head in. </p><p>They wandered through the old house. Sound travelled well in the place. Walls were thin and the doors didn’t seem to remember how to latch closed. The whole place stunk of bad memories and a copious amount dust. Both smells that Jisung was all too familiar with and could very easily identify. Being boarded into what amounted as a crawl space for a couple days gave him a good amount of expertise in that field. </p><p>Down a flight of stairs and they ended up back at the library, pushing inside, and striding across the room to the adjoining study. </p><p>Seungmin was slouched over in a chair at the desk, his head drooped down against his chest. </p><p>Jisu sat beside Ryujin, barely glancing at them as they walked into the room. </p><p>“I didn’t have it in me to wake him up.” She whispered. “And they were both doing better, so I could watch them both.”</p><p>“I’ll wake him up…he ate my left-overs a week ago. I earned this.” Minho said bluntly, walking over to Seungmin before anyone could stop him. </p><p>With a slightly frightening smirk, Minho grabbed Seungmin’s ankles and tugged him abruptly out of the chair and sending him solidly to the floor. </p><p>That was definitely one way to wake someone up. </p><p>Seungmin yelped and scrambled to his feet, snatching the first object he could from off of the desk, a letter opener, and wielding it in front of him. His eyes darted around his frantically before he figured out what was going on. The expression on his face hardened and he chucked the letter opener at Minho, who dodged it easily. </p><p>“Morning, princess.” Minho said, leaning back against the desk looking particularly proud of himself. </p><p>“I hate you.”</p><p>“What were you going to do with a letter opener anyway?” </p><p>“With enough force, there would be plenty I could do.” Seungmin muttered darkly, smoothing out the wrinkles in his clothes. </p><p>Minho blinked silently, clearly taken aback by the vague threat. </p><p>But Jisung stopped paying attention to them as he caught sight of Hyunjin, his breath rattling through his chapped and cracked lips. Aside from breath, there was no other sign that Hyunjin was alive. Or even that he was Hyunjin and not just a puffed up, mummified corpse. </p><p>His stomach turned. </p><p>“I’m sorry.” Jisung whispered, looking down at Hyunjin’s broken body. </p><p>Guilt bubbled up inside him, pushing at his body with a force that made his tremble. </p><p>That was what Hyunjin had said to him. </p><p>But he didn’t know why. </p><p>A part of him wished that their places had been switched. Jisung could take physical abuse. He’d been starved. Beaten. Suffocated. Stabbed. Taken advantage of. He knew how to hurt. How to drain the life from himself before someone else could take it from him. Hide it away. Keep it safe for when he wasn’t so broken. </p><p>Maybe it was hubristic to think that he would have been able to take what they’d given to Hyunjin. </p><p>Maybe it was just a sad statement of who Jisung was that he thought that at all. </p><p>Maybe it was because he knew what pain like that felt like. Emotionally, physically, psychologically. Enough to know that he didn’t want anyone else to feel that. Not Hyunjin. Not even the ones who’d put him through it to begin with. No one deserved that. Not again. Once was plenty enough for the universe to get it’s fill of human suffering. </p><p>“He’ll recover, but he won’t be like he was before.” Jisu said. “The damage to his eye isn’t fixable, even with a medical professional at the helm. And it’ll be a while before he walks again, even then he’ll likely need a cane or a wheelchair to help him get around.”</p><p>Jisung frowned thoughtfully.</p><p>Looking down at Hyunjin, Jisung couldn’t imagine him that way. Unable to trip over his own feet. Hold stuff over Jisung’s head when they argued. Being the only one tall enough to change the battery for the smoke detector when standing on a chair. </p><p>That didn’t seem right. </p><p>“But he’ll live?”</p><p>“Yes, it looks like he’s going to pull through. Though we might want to check him into a proper facility after all this.” She replied. “Both of them.”</p><p>He nodded. </p><p>That was enough. Hyunjin being alive was enough. They could handle the rest together. </p><p>“Wake up, so I can finally be the one to push you around then. You owe that to me, asshole.”</p><p>There was no snarky response. There was no response at all. Just ragged breathing. </p><p>You’re supposed to call me a brat. Jisung thought miserably.</p><p>But Hyunjin just laid there. Silently. </p><p>“I forgot to give this to Chan while he was here.” Seungmin said, startling Jisung from his stupor, and pulling a neatly folded piece of paper from his back pocket. “It was…well, you know.”</p><p>Jisung had known what it was the moment Seungmin pulled it out. </p><p>There was crusted bits of dried blood on the back of it. </p><p>It was the note those…things, had pinned into Hyunjin’s flesh.</p><p>At first, Jisung didn’t want to take it. Couldn’t take it from Seungmin. Because he didn’t want to know what it said. Because he didn’t want to touch anything that had caused even a modicum of pain to his…friend? Teammate? Begrudging ally? Whatever the hell Hyunjin was to him now. </p><p>But then he noticed the slight wavering of Seungmin’s hand. </p><p>He took the paper. </p><p>“You should eat.” Jisung said softly, jerking his head toward the uneaten sandwich on the desk. </p><p>“Oh…I forgot.” Seungmin mumbled, his stomach gurgling loudly. “Kind of hard to have an appetite when….”</p><p>“I know.” </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>As Seungmin went to finally eat something, Minho moved across the room to Jisung’s side, putting a hand firmly on his shoulder. His brows were creased with evident worry with no effort to conceal it. </p><p>“You okay, Sung?” He asked, his voice laced with the same tenderness it had possessed earlier. </p><p>“Would you believe me if I said I was fine?” Jisung replied sardonically, his eyes drifting back down to Hyunjin and to the paper in his closed hand. </p><p>“No.” </p><p>“I figured as much. I’m not that lucky.”</p><p>“You’re just not that good of an actor.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know, I’ve been told as much before.” Jisung said softly. </p><p>“Do you want me to read the note first?”</p><p>Jisung nodded, passing it over to Minho’s waiting hand.  </p><p>There were a few moments of buzzing, staticky silence that rang in Jisung’s ears as Minho read what was written on the note. </p><p>His face was stoic, a wall coming down to block Jisung from reading the note in his expression before even having a chance to read it. </p><p>“Well?”</p><p>Minho set his jaw stiffly, clearly not wanting to divulge what was on the page. That was enough to send Jisung’s heart into his stomach. </p><p>“’You should keep your pretty things locked up tight. Or else a thief will have no choice but to take it. And the fates will punish your arrogance.’”</p><p>Jisung squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. </p><p>‘You’ll never leave me will you Doe-Eyes?’</p><p>They talked about him, treated him as though Hyunjin were just some object. A prize to be dangled above the heads of the players. </p><p>“I…I need to…”</p><p>Jisung didn’t need to finish the sentence for Minho to understand. </p><p>“C’mon, Hannie, let’s walk around a bit.” Minho said, heaving an arm around Jisung’s shoulders and pulling him against his side. </p><p>They left the study, Jisung’s hands fidgeting fitfully, trying to relieve the excess anxious energy pulsing through his body. </p><p>His feet just followed Minho’s gentle lead, letting himself space out for a bit, leave the present, overwhelming reality. </p><p>He didn’t even realize he was playing with the strings of Minho’s hoodie until he was snapped back into the present by a voice calling his name. </p><p>Blinking, he turned to the source of the voice.</p><p>A young woman with pink hair, and a kind face. She looked as though she were your friend, even if you had never met her, which in this case, Jisung hadn’t had the pleasure. </p><p>“Jisung…right?” She asked again breathlessly, as though she had been running. </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I was given this back at the penthouse by Minho, and I found out it was yours, so I had it washed and I wanted to give it back to you.” She continued, pulling a folded bundle of cloth from behind her back and handing it to Jisung. </p><p>His sweatshirt. </p><p>The texture of the fabric between his fingertips had a familiar comfort. His oldest comfort. First true comfort. The first time he’d ever felt truly safe. Memory woven into the fibers telling him he was going to be okay.</p><p>“I got the feeling that Chan thought it was important to you. He didn’t say as much, but…yeah. I’m Sana by the way. I don’t think we’ve officially met, though Chan has talked about you a lot.”</p><p>Jisung was slow to respond.</p><p>“Oh, right, thank you for this. It was nice to meet you.” He said, not quite having registered what she’d said initially and making an educated guess. </p><p>“You are adorable.” Sana laughed. “It was nice to meet you too. By the way, Younghyun is expecting his team to show up shortly. He said you would know them, so he was wondering if you could open the door for them.”</p><p>Jisung nodded. “Yeah, I can look out for them.”</p><p>“Oh, and could you tell Chan when you see him that we made contact with Chaeyoung and the others. They’ll be here in a couple hours.”</p><p>Jisung nodded again.</p><p>“Awesome. I’ll see you around.”</p><p>With that Sana, continued on into the house, leaving the two of them alone. </p><p>“Am I adorable?” Jisung asked once she’d left. </p><p>“That’s what you’re fixated on?” Minho responded. “Not the fact that you’re opening the door for your kidnappers.”</p><p>“They bought me dinner, so we’re even.”</p><p>“That’s not even close to even.”</p><p>“Being kidnapped doesn’t really even chart on my trauma scale. Especially when they didn’t really do much.”</p><p>“You got stabbed.”</p><p>“By someone else.” Jisung said, unfolding the hoodie, and slipping it over his head. “If you want me to have more of a reaction, I can summon one up.”</p><p>Minho shook his head. </p><p>“God, you need help. All of you.” </p><p>“So I’ve been told.” Jisung mused. “Tell me when there’s an opening in my schedule for that.”</p><p>The eye roll could be heard without even looking up to see it. </p><p>Minho was right about them all needing help. They all had trauma to spare, none of which had been properly dealt with. None of them had any healthy coping mechanisms either. Probably had some clinical mental disorders that hadn’t been diagnosed. All of that mixed up in a nice little powder keg and forced under pressure. </p><p>Unfortunately, they were all a bit too tied up at the moment to properly address any of that. Still tied up. Had never gotten untied for long enough to think about sorting something like that out. </p><p>Jisung wondered if therapists offered family discounts. Or if the eight of them counted as family. </p><p>At that point, having been through all this shit, he figured they earned an honorary family certification. </p><p>Enough of that though, he had some abductors to let into his best friend’s old family home. </p><p>The situations he found himself in, never failed to be stranger than the average person’s. The sentences he found himself saying were never short of said statements of that fact. </p><p>But in the wise words of a blue cartoon fish…just keep swimming. </p><p>Just keep swimming. </p><p>Maybe eventually he’d get past the strangeness, the pain, the excitement to finally reach the promise of quiet and peace.</p><p>He was less of a fish though and more like a toothless shark. He posed no real threat to anyone, but he couldn’t ever stop swimming. If he stopped swimming, he would die. </p><p>A little less child friendly. Too morbid for a Disney movie. </p><p>“Let’s go wait up by the entryway.” Jisung suggested, tucking his hands up into the sleeves of his newly returned hoodie, an unwarranted sense of security washing over him. “We’ve got guests coming.”</p><p>‘Keep swimming, Jisung.’</p><p>He might’ve been exhausted, but he’d come too far to drown now.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading!</p><p>I really wanted to stick to my every Friday schedule, but it's not looking like I'll be able to manage that at the moment, so for now, I'm going to switch to an every other week posting. That way I can get something of decent quality out semi-regularly, with a schedule I can keep up with. Hopefully, I'll be able to go back to weekly posts in the near future, but I can't be sure when. </p><p>Again, thank you for everyone who's been keeping up with this story. See you in two weeks.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Running Errands and a Big Ol' Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jisung, Minho, and Yuna go on a little side quest in the rain</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time the grey morning dawned, everyone that could be considered an ally was assembled at the old JYP house. They all gathered in the dining room…well, those that could gather. The official family members sat at the table while the others filled in the rest of the seats according to seniority and filtered to take up every flat surface in the room.  Jisung, himself sat on the window sill between Minho and Yuna, half-listening to the mind-numbing technical whatsit that the family was discussing and fiddling with the loose threads on his hoodie while Yuna absently braided the longer strands of his hair. </p><p>He leaned his head against Minho’s shoulders, yawning heavily. </p><p>“They’ll realize we’ve all gathered here by now, so if we stay put, focus on planning a counter, we can act as bait to try and draw them both here.” Jaebeom said. “It’ll be messy, but it’ll be quick, and the most efficient strategy for getting this over with.”</p><p>Across the room, beside Jaebeom at the table, Mark sat, on his phone, arguing under his breath with the airline costumer support to get his flight changed. Apparently he’d been about to board when Jaebeom had called him. Nobody paid him much mind, letting him do what he needed to in peace.</p><p>Behind them, on the alcohol cabinet, perched the man from the waffle restaurant about a month ago. He noticed Jisung’s watchful eyes and wiggled his fingers in his direction, winking knowingly as he swiped around on his phone, playing some unseen game. </p><p>“Are you willing to risk that many lives?” Chan retorted, giving the man on the counter a distracted look every so often. </p><p>“It’s the best advantage we have.” Jihyo interjected. “Homefield. We don’t have the numbers or the prep time. SM has been planning this for a while and has an army. YG is belligerent. Any other option would likely result in more casualties. Our best hope is to draw them both here.”</p><p>“And give ourselves a two front war?” Yeji snorted. “That’s asking for death.”</p><p>“We’re already in a two front war,” Younghyun stated flatly. “As much as I dislike agreeing, Jaebeom and Jihyo are right. Our best bet is to maximize the time we do have and concentrate our efforts here. Draw them in close and deal with the problem all at once.”</p><p>“Wow, looks like your head’s deflated a bit.” Yeji muttered. “Never thought I’d live the day.”</p><p>This meeting was only two percent actual planning, and ninety-eight percent throwing around thinly vailed insults at each other until someone snapped. Jisung was unsure how they managed to get this far if this meeting was any indication of how they generally operated. </p><p>“Why don’t we just destroy the thing?” Jihyo said. “It’s useless to us without the other pieces and it’s useless to them, since we don’t have my piece. And with one less piece, it’ll be harder to try and fill in the missing data.”</p><p>The others looked around at each other. </p><p>Jaebeom shrugged. </p><p>“Okay.” </p><p>“Sounds good to me.” Younghyun said. “They’re still going to try and kill us though, seeing as we still are equal heirs to our father’s company and the like. So our best play is probably going to be making SM believe we have both Yeji and Jihyo’s pieces. And hoping that YG sees a golden opportunity to take out all their rivals at once.”</p><p>“Still too much hoping and ‘ifs’ for my liking, but it seems as though that’s as good as we’re going to get.” Jaebeom said. </p><p>“Speaking of ‘ifs’, if things go wrong,” Chan said. “What’s our failsafe?”</p><p>The table hushed. </p><p>Jisung didn’t know what they were talking about. A failsafe. Obviously. But if there were multiple Jisung had never been privy to that type of information from Chan. </p><p>“I think we should go with the Aquarius failsafe.” Younghyun said, all the playfulness drained from his voice, and it seemed the other recognized it. </p><p>“Younghyun-“ Jihyo started.</p><p>“We all know it’s the best option.” He continued, his voice steeled, as though he were using every ounce of his authority as the eldest to drive in his argument. “If it all goes wrong, we fall back to Aquarius. Got it?”</p><p>Everyone nodded. </p><p>Jisung jolted as someone elbowed him in the side. </p><p>His eyes darted around until he found Yuna’s looking over at him. </p><p>“What’s the Aquarius failsafe?” She whispered. </p><p>Jisung shrugged. “Must be a family thing.”</p><p>She nodded. </p><p>He wondered what the star sign had to do with anything. His head ran through possible connections. A date that fell in those months. A person born under that sign. Water, maybe something or somewhere on or around water. It was an air sign, so perhaps that was tied in somehow. Or maybe it was something else entirely. </p><p>It was a failsafe…something for emergencies. </p><p>A few moments later, the table stood up, pulling Jisung out of the lull he’d manage to put himself into from the warmth of Minho and the gentle patter of rain that had started tumbling down outside. He blinked rapidly, sitting up as Chan stood in front of him, looking down at him expectantly. </p><p>It occurred to him suddenly that Jaebeom had just spoken to him, though registering that fact had taken a little bit of time. He didn’t catch enough of it to even guess how to respond.</p><p>“What?” Jisung asked, his voice sounding groggier than he’d hoped to sound. </p><p>“There’s a munitions bunker in the field behind the house, I need you three to go and load up these bags with everything there and bring them back here for inventory.”</p><p>Jaebeom dropped two large duffel bags at their feet and tossed a set of keys to Minho, who almost fumbled the receive.</p><p>Jisung looked out the window behind him as the rain started to pick up pace, a low rumble rattled the window pane. </p><p>“It’s raining.”</p><p>“Better hurry then,” Jaebeom said. “There are umbrellas in the front closet.”</p><p>“How are we supposed hold an umbrella and carry the loaded duffel bag.” Yuna asked.</p><p>“You’re young. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”</p><p>“What the hell does being young have to do with our ability to multitask?” Minho retorted, rolling his eyes. </p><p>“Nothing. I just didn’t want to listen to your questions or complaints anymore. Just do it.”</p><p>He didn’t say anything else before he breezed back over to his group. </p><p>Minho grumbled under his breath, something about what Jaebeom could stick up a particular anatomical feature. And then offering more options that got increasingly more worrying. </p><p>“I don’t think that’s physically possible.” Yuna said quietly as he picked up one of the bags.</p><p>“I would make it possible.” Minho replied, his eyes darting over to Jaebeom distastefully, if only because Minho’s shoes would be getting wet.</p><p>“I mean some of them, maybe, but I don’t think-“</p><p>“Don’t give him a challenge.” Jisung said, grabbing up the other bag. “He will absolutely do everything in his power to prove you wrong and that crazy fucker will actually succeed in doing it.”</p><p>Yuna looked slightly concerned, which was a feat considering what she was doing for an extracurricular at the moment. </p><p>“Even-“</p><p>Jisung nodded. </p><p>“Remind me to stay on his good side.”</p><p>“I remind myself of that every day.” Jisung sighed, following after Minho, who’d wordlessly set off for their task.</p><p>The three of them grabbed umbrellas from the aforementioned front closet. </p><p>Jisung ended up with a child’s sized pink one with little yellow ducks all over it. He didn’t mind. It was cute. And as he’d been told by a doctor that Chan had taken him to once (and had never returned to), he could turn sideways and cease to be perceived. A rather blunt way of telling him that he had been malnourished. But aside from that, his shoulders had never been broad enough anyway to warrant an abundance of width from his umbrellas, unlike Chan, so he didn’t really have to worry all that much about that. </p><p>Except for his shoes, those would probably get wet. He never had gotten around to investing in water-proof shoes. </p><p>“Well, let’s go, kids.” Minho grumbled, leading their troop out the front door. “</p><p>They kept close to the side of the house to keep the growing, blustery winds from pushing them over. The rain was picking up as well, almost making the umbrella’s obsolete as a tool to keep them dry. </p><p>All in all…it was probably up there among the most miserable experiences of the last few days. Sure he’d been unfortunately close to a creep, kidnapped, stabbed, had nearly bled out, and nearly killed again but at least he’d been warm and dry in those cases. At least his socks hadn’t been soaked through.  </p><p>Minho looked practically murderous as he silently sloshed through the damp grass. </p><p>“This property is fucking huge. A little more direction might’ve been nice.” He said as they made it to the back of the house and into the large expanse of the backyard. </p><p>“I’ll call Yeji.” Yuna said. </p><p>She’d been given a new set of clothes, as a bloody onesie probably wasn’t the most psychologically calming outfit to be wearing around the house, for her or anyone else, so she had pockets in which to store something like a cellphone. Helpful for their current undertaking. </p><p>“Hey, Yeji.” Yuna said, taking up a cuter tone as she spoke into the speaker, though it was a loud cute voice to be heard over the wind and rain. “Your brother…the one with all the hair and the bad attitude. Yeah, him? Well, I was commissioned with two of your other brother’s…the short one with the confidence problems…yeah, his two accomplices…Jisung and the other one…sort of looks like he might kill someone…I think that’s him…are you Lee Minho?”</p><p>She directed that at Minho.</p><p>“Unfortunately. Not the actor. Just an idiot stupid enough to get themselves caught up in this mess.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s him. Anyway, we were commissioned to go load up on stuff from the ammunition bunker thing you guys apparently have on the property…except he only vaguely gestured to where it was we were supposed to be going. So,” She took a pause for air. “I was hoping you could point us in the right direction.”</p><p>She handed her umbrella to Jisung so she could plug her other ear and listen to what Yeji was saying over the line. </p><p>“Just walk North from the house. Twisty tree. Code is 042597 Got it. Thanks, babes. Be back in a bit.”</p><p>With that she hung up and took the umbrella back.</p><p>“Get that?”</p><p>Minho nodded. </p><p>“Great, let’s get this done.”</p><p>Together the three of them followed Yeji’s direction to the north end of the property, to the strangely crooked tree that she’d described to Yuna, the storm building up to an almost hurricane like force. A few yards away was a small cement structure with a heavy iron door, the red light from the keypad a beacon in the dark and the rain. </p><p>Beside the tree were two gravestones. </p><p>With the world turning dark, Jisung couldn’t make out the names, but he knew that they must be the two siblings that the others had mentioned. The ones that their father had led to death. It seemed there was a mutual agreement amongst them that their father wouldn’t be buried next to these two. That these two would be allowed to rest in peace. </p><p>“Crap!” Yuna cursed, looking down at her phone. </p><p>“What now?” Minho snapped, more at his circumstances than at Yuna herself. </p><p>“Storm advisory!”</p><p>“No shit! We should probably get this over with before a branch falls on our heads and sends us with same-day shipping to our creator!” </p><p>The wind was making the umbrellas more of a burden than a help, so they fought to close them and ran against the wind toward the shelter of the ammunition bunker’s slight overhang. They were all red from the blistering winds and soaked through, but with protection from the former, they could catch their breath as Yuna put in the password. </p><p>Minho sank back against the wall. </p><p>“I swear, I am going to kill him.”</p><p>“Get in line.” Yuna murmured, punching in the last digit. </p><p>The light turned green and they heaved the door open, stumbling through the doorway into the dark bunker. </p><p>Jisung felt along the wall until his hand brushed against a switch for the lights. </p><p>A row of florescent lights, buzzed to life, illuminated shelves upon shelves of what had to be an illegal amount of weapons. Some of it had to be military grade. Jisung knew their father had been a paranoid man, but this was bordering on ridiculous. It was almost as though the man had been a prepper for the zombie apocalypse.</p><p>“He does not expect up to cart all this up to the house, does he?” Minho asked, nudging a container with his foot, and jumping as a mouse scurried out from behind it. “Fuck my life.”</p><p>“I think we just load up on everything that’ll fit and is useful.” Jisung said, picking up a sheathed sword, and pulling it out to admire it. “I don’t know who will need a well-made replica of the Unggeom sword.”</p><p>“How do you know it’s a replica?”</p><p>“Unggeom swords had inverted scabbards that helped lock the sword into its sheath when not in use.” He said simply placing it back on the shelf. “Plus, this sword is double edged. But it’s definitely trying to be an Unggeom. The material looks to be the same, the length and width is right, and it does have an exaggerated pommel. But the metal hasn’t aged enough.”</p><p>Both Minho and Yuna looked at him strangely. </p><p>“I watch a lot of YouTube.” </p><p>“So yeah, ix-nay on the sword.” Minho said, flicking open the latches to a container, bracing for any potential rodents before loading boxes of ammo into his bag. “Knives would probably work if you’ve got extra space and weight capacity. Remember, we do have to carry this back.”</p><p>“Maybe not.” Yuna said. </p><p>They all turned look at where she had propped herself against an ATV like a used car salesman, a pile canvas pooled on the floor. </p><p>“Oh, the universe doesn’t hate me.” Minho said. “Are there keys? It doesn’t matter, I will make it run if I have to offer a blood sacrifice to the damn thing.”</p><p>Jisung hoped that he himself wouldn’t be the blood sacrifice in question and turned back to silently collecting the weapons he’d been tasked with carrying. While he did so, Yuna and Minho were conversing about weight limits for the ATV and debating strapping a container to the back to load more. He let them do so. That wasn’t his area of expertise after all. </p><p>Eventually, they had reached an agreement and had loaded everything onto the ATV, strapping it down and covering the bags with some tarps they found laying around. Yuna passed out some ponchos that she’d uncovered, and they braced themselves to head back out into the storm.</p><p>“Now to get this thing started.” Minho said with a dangerous grin. </p><p>The three of them climbed on, Jisung and Yuna squeezed into the passenger’s seat. </p><p>He did some automotive wizardry that Jisung couldn’t even begin to describe, and the vehicle rumbled to life. </p><p>Minho whooped loudly, startling Jisung. </p><p>“That’s more like it.” </p><p>“If I die, I’d like my phone to be dropped in a lake and an appropriately, inappropriate ironic song about living while I’m young to be played as I’m being lowered into the ground.” Yuna said, looping her arm through Jisung’s. </p><p>“If I die, I’d like a barbershop quartet to carry my coffin and sing the funeral dirge with an upbeat tempo and in a major key.” Jisung said. </p><p>“You’re not going to die,” Minho said. “I’m a licensed professional.”</p><p>“So was the captain of the Titanic. We see how that went.” Yuna replied under her breath. </p><p>“Do you want to walk back, kid?”</p><p>“They actually think a coal fire in the furnace room beneath the ship was a contributing factor to the sinking.” Jisung chimed in. </p><p>Minho rolled his eyes as he jumped off the ATV to reopen the doors and pull out. </p><p>Once the bunker was secured shut again, the vehicle took off across the lawn through the hurricane gale outside back to the house. Jisung ducked his head down, letting the front of the vehicle take the brunt of the rain. </p><p>“I am never listening to seniority ever again!” Yuna shouted over the storm. “Authority can suck it! I’m not even getting paid for this crap!”</p><p> “He has a watch that’s worth a bit…seems like fair payment!” Jisung replied at the same volume.</p><p>“We can split it three ways, whoever grabs it gets the bigger chunk of change!”</p><p>“Sounds like a fair deal!”</p><p>A particularly ballsy gust of wind nearly sent Yuna toppling out of the ATV as it hit when they reached a bump in the lawn. Thankfully, Jisung weighed just enough to be a decent anchor and keep her on board. </p><p>They punched to a stop at the back of the house, Jisung’s head colliding with the dash in a move that probably wasn’t advisable with his current streak of head injuries, making his vision shut off for a brief moment. That probably wasn’t good. He would have to just hope he didn’t do anything permanent.</p><p>That’s how his life was. Just hoping that his bad luck would have the convenience and courtesy  to strike when it was merely inconvenient and not when it was dire, do or die. His luck seemed to have been more polite as of late, bolstered by that of those he was surrounded by, so he was hoping that streak would continue. Just a little bit longer. </p><p>He couldn’t hope for good luck. Just better luck. Bad luck adjacent, so to speak. </p><p>“Come on, Sung. Let’s get this inside.” Minho said, throwing one of the duffels over his shoulder. “They can unload the crates themselves if they really want what’s in them. Pull your weight, kid, I have a hot shower calling my name after this.”</p><p>He directed that last bit at Yuna, whose name he either didn’t know or was pretending not to know. Both of which were a distinct possibility. </p><p>They heaved the bags inside.</p><p>It struck Jisung suddenly that the door hadn’t been locked. And no alarm had been triggered when they’d come in the house. </p><p>In fact, the whole place seemed too quiet, sending the hair on Jisung’s neck on end. </p><p>Apparently the other two felt it too because Minho stuck his arm out to corral the two of them behind him. His body was rigid, and his eyes sharp. </p><p>He motioned for them to put the bags in the closet, out of sight, and the best they could do if there really was danger. They did so without argument. </p><p>Jisung’s body was getting uncomfortably comfortable with near-constant terror again. Which was an uncomfortable notion to think about. He didn’t want to go back to that state of being desensitized to the horrors of the world. Feeling nothing about what would be someone else’s defining trauma was almost worse than feeling the pain of it. Numbness was meant to be a short term response, not a way of existing. Humanity wasn’t built to be numb all the time. </p><p>So in losing his ability to feel…he was losing his humanity…again. The humanity that he’d worked so hard to find again. The ability to feel joy and sorrow, sympathy and empathy, hurt and euphoria that was still so new and fragile.</p><p>That was something he didn’t know if he could ever find again if he were to lose it. And he would be left numb. Empty. </p><p>He slid the door to the closet shut, and slunk back toward Minho again, hoping that he might know what to do. </p><p>Before Minho could even get a chance, a door down the hall, the door to the dining room, where they’d last seen everyone, and a figure stumbled out. Even from the distance they could tell that the figure was A.) covered in blood, and B.) holding a bloodstained knife that was steadily dripping onto the hallway rug. </p><p>Not exactly promising. </p><p>The three of them stood frozen, unable to move from the line of sight.</p><p>The figure looked up at them, taking in each person before they smiled and waved.</p><p>“Welcome to the party…so glad you could join us.”</p><p>Well, shit.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here we are folks! Another chapter for the books. </p><p>Hope you enjoyed. Be back in two weeks!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Learning to Forgive and Saying Goodbye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which BamBam and Chan have a long overdue conversation</p><p> </p><p>TW: mind the tags</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the words of so many people in his life, Chan was a disaster of a human being trapped in the body of someone who looked like they had their life together. Still, he knew how to keep up appearances better than anyone he knew, which was probably why he’d been put in charge of every group project he’d ever been assigned in grade school. Or maybe because he was the only one gullible enough to be talked into it. He could blame that on the insomnia trained into him since he was thirteen years old. Which probably exacerbated his disaster human problem further. </p><p>All that to say, Chan was far too old, and far too tired to deal with an estranged friend at the moment. But he still felt obligated to keep up appearances, so that was how he ended up where he was, securing the windows and doors with BamBam, trying to avoid awkward conversation at all cost. Because he looked like he had it together, but that was all through the power of misdirection and changing the topic of conversation when it started to get into the danger zone. He would switch lanes and make an ill-advised U-turns in the middle of the freeway to avoid anything close to uncomfortable.</p><p>Beep, Beep. </p><p>“So, are you going to be broody and silent all night or am I going to have to burst into a choreographed number specially designed to annoy you into talking to me? Because I am prepared to do that.” BamBam said. “Please don’t make me, Chris.”</p><p>“God knows I can’t make you do anything, even if I wanted to.” Chan said, aware he was taking the bait, but unable to stop the words from tumbling out. </p><p>“There we go.” BamBam said victoriously. “And you are correct I am what some say an ‘stubbornly independent person’.”</p><p>“They would be accurate in their judgement.”  </p><p>“Oof. I’m wounded. My best friend.”</p><p>“Watch it.” Chan said lowly, hammering in a nail into the wall a tad bit too aggressively. “Don’t get too familiar. You lost that right.”</p><p>BamBam sighed, an edge of frustration evident in his voice. </p><p>“And they say I’m stubborn.”</p><p>Chan grit his teeth. </p><p>“If you want to say something, say it.” He muttered. “Let’s not draw this out too long.”</p><p>“You want to do this now?”</p><p>“Well, I’d rather get it over with, and clearly it’s still bothering you, so let’s just do it.”</p><p>It was BamBam’s turn to hold the tension in his jaw, setting it stiffly. </p><p>“Fine,” He replied, setting down what he was holding and facing Chan fully. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved with the kid.”</p><p>“Here we go.” Chan mumbled. </p><p>“You said you wanted to do this, so this is me doing it.”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“Fine!”</p><p>They both took a deep breath to settle the frustration building between them to a more civil level. </p><p>Chan rolled his head back, cracking his neck before resetting it and looking at his former friend again. </p><p>“You shouldn’t have gotten so involved with the kid.” BamBam repeated. </p><p>“I wasn’t going to leave him to die.” Chan said angrily. </p><p>“I never said you should have. What I’m saying is that you should have left it at that. You became too emotionally invested. Too invested in general.”</p><p>“If you’re talking about the trial, I only provided the funds for legal support, lodging and food. I wasn’t involved.” Chan said. “And after that…the foster family…I only texted once in the first six months to make sure he got settled. And then…I only ever responded when he reached out to me.”</p><p>“See! Why couldn’t you just let it be?”</p><p>“They neglected him, Bam! I couldn’t just stand by when he was calling out for help.” Chan said desperately. “He was traumatized and suicidal…if I didn’t do anything-“</p><p>“It’s so damn hard to argue with you when you’re so fucking noble…” BamBam muttered. “You make me look desperate and childish in comparison because who could argue with that. You got involved to save the kid…fucking selfless. But you said you would be there if I needed you”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“I got in some trouble. I needed your help…I called you…and you didn’t answer. Five times. So I called JB, and he answered, he came to help me. Stitched me up good as new. But that was supposed to be you. You were my friend…you were supposed to be the one to come…not your brother. You were supposed to help me!”</p><p>BamBam’s chest heaved with the exertion of his raw and punctuated statement, the words of which had lodged straight into Chan’s chest. A pang of…he didn’t even know what…echoed in his heart, and his throat, and his gut. </p><p>“Bam-“</p><p>“And then you were so upset when I decided to join up with JB instead of you…At that point I didn’t really think I owed you an explanation. Maybe I was too proud. Angry.” He continued, bulldozing over Chan’s attempt at speech as though he didn’t even register it. “But…recently, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m still angry…and still bitter, still not over it. And then I thought…maybe you felt the same way. Maybe…maybe, just, maybe you had a reason for doing what you did, just like I had a reason for what I did. So I thought you might be willing to talk about it, now that it’s in the more distant past.</p><p>“I tried before, but clearly that didn’t work. So now you’re here…forced to hear me out with nowhere else to go without overstepping your little charade of playing the gentleman.”</p><p>BamBam settled his posture and fixed Chan with a weighty stare, raising a brow. </p><p>“Your turn, Chris.”</p><p>It took a moment for Chan to remember how to speak.</p><p>When he did, he was still unsure of what to say. </p><p>“What happened to you, Bam?”</p><p>The words came out like a rasp, caught on some forgotten emotion lodged in his throat. </p><p>“Brought a lie to a knife-fight. A grift I was working for your dad went sour, and I got a couple of nice scars to show for it.” He said simply, leaning his shoulder against the wall. “Left for dead in a back alley in a part pf the city respectable people don’t frequent.”</p><p>“Jesus, I didn’t know. When did it happen?”</p><p>BamBam let out a shuddering breath. </p><p>“Four years ago. January 18th.”</p><p>The date didn’t stick out to Chan, but that just made it worse. That meant he had no reason to have not picked up the phone that day. </p><p>“So, what was your reason?”</p><p>“I-” Chan started, choking on whatever bullshit he was going to coat in a generous helping of sugar. “I don’t have one.”</p><p>To his credit, BamBam looked shocked. It was either acting, which was just enhanced lying, so it wouldn’t be out of the question. Or BamBam just assumed that Chan would have some world-shattering reason to not pick up the phone. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>BamBam’s voice had started to tremble. </p><p>Wait. </p><p>January.</p><p>Four years ago. </p><p>Shit.</p><p>He couldn’t be sure of the date, or the time, but he could remember shutting off his phone.</p><p>‘Are you sure?’</p><p>The all too frail boy looked over at him with all too wide eyes, as if thinking this meager offering was somehow too much for him. The world had fucked him up so badly that he thought that Chan buying him anything, let alone a cell phone, was incredible. Chan had tried to get him a more recent model, but Jisung had started to get overwhelmed by the price and the options, so they decided to scale back and get a simple, cheap flip-phone </p><p>“Of course I’m sure.” Chan said, pressing the box into Jisung’s hands. “I want you to have some way to get a hold of me if something’s wrong or you need help.”</p><p>He’d just gotten legal guardianship of Jisung for an indefinite period of time while the investigation into the allegations of neglect were in process with his former foster parents (that was after the years of physical abuse from his former adoptive family). There were a couple grey areas that he’d pulled some strings and called some favors to get through, but he didn’t trust the system to give the kid the justice or the care he needed. </p><p>During that time, he’d taken days out of his work to take Jisung out to buy some essentials. Clothes. Bedding. Some snacks. A cell phone. Money had been tight, having just gotten off of his father’s payroll, but for the first time in forever Chan had felt as though he were doing a good thing for the right reasons. No ulterior motive. No scheme. Just because it was right. </p><p>Jisung made him want to do the right thing.</p><p>But if that had made him neglect his friend…</p><p>January.</p><p>That would have been around the time he left the company to strike out on his own. </p><p>Around the time BamBam told him that he wouldn’t be coming along. </p><p>He had been angry at the time. </p><p>“I wanted you to leave the company with me. But you declined.”</p><p>“So it’s my fault?”</p><p>“No! I didn’t say that!”</p><p>BamBam stood up straight, his expression near lethal. </p><p>“Then what are you trying to say? No bullshit, Chris! I’m sick of trying to decode you and your family’s fucking pleasantries. Just say what you fucking mean. Don’t dress it up. Don’t make it pretty. Let it be ugly. But just let it be true.” BamBam snapped. “You owe me that…at the very least.”</p><p>“Fine! I was pissed at you! Because my one friend…the only person I could trust in the world, sold me out for a paycheck!”</p><p>“You think I stayed for a paycheck! Do you really think that lowly of me? I know I’m not the best person in the world, but don’t ever accuse me of being that selfish!”</p><p>“Why else would you stay?” Chan spat back. “You hated it there just as much as I did. More than I did. The old man treated you like dust.”</p><p>“I couldn’t afford to leave, Chris! I wasn’t like you. I came here…to Korea…as a kid…and the old man took me under his wing. Sent me to school. He gave me that job. I owed him a debt. And he never let me forget.” BamBam snarled. “Except I didn’t get the luxury of being called his son!”</p><p>The words hit true. Again. </p><p>Luxury. </p><p>Chan almost wanted to rip his hair out and scream at the choice of word. It was no pleasure cruise to live under this roof. To answer as a son to the bastard who owned it. To be paraded around like a trophy charity case. But his brain caught his anger and examined it before the words raged from him. </p><p>As bad as it was…he’d still had that privilege. The connections and prestige of his adoptive father. It might’ve been hard for Chan to distance himself from his father, but he could see now that he never really cut ties with what had benefited him. The way of life and business. The contacts. Those he’d kept…even after he’d stopped speaking to the old man. </p><p>BamBam wouldn’t have been so lucky. He didn’t have the title of potential heir. Of son. </p><p>He took a shuddering breath.</p><p>“I would have helped you. I would have fought tooth and nail for you if you’d asked me.” Chan said, trying to find BamBam’s eyes, but being ardently avoided. </p><p>“I couldn’t take it…asking for more than I’d already gotten. I was always made to feel bad for needing anything more than what I had…at that point in my life…I couldn’t ask you to do that for me. Even if it meant you would be mad at me.” He replied lowly. “Because I knew you wouldn’t understand, even if I tried to explain.”</p><p>He shook his head with an empty laugh. </p><p>“But even then, I still called you when I got in a tight space because I thought that you felt the way you just said you did. That you would have helped me anyway. And fought for me.”</p><p>Chan sighed heavily. Defeat sitting triumphantly atop his ribcage. </p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>The words seemed to echo in the silence of the room, hovering in the air in bolded letters.</p><p>“Yeah. Me too.”</p><p>They both seemed to feel exhausted, with everything now out in the open. Sharp and angry. </p><p>“I’m sorry I didn’t answer and I’m sorry I didn’t understand the position you were in. Both when we left and when you decided to join up with Jaebeom.” Chan said softly. “I won’t apologize for taking care of Jisung, but I regret that I didn’t also take care of you. You deserved a better friend. I will spend my life regretting it. But at least now I can move forward without blaming you for what is a least in part, if not in full, my fault.”</p><p>“I’m still upset, but that will pass.” BamBam responded. “I don’t blame the kid…not really. He’s seems alright. And with time…maybe we can both forgive each other for being boneheaded asses.”</p><p>“Our thick skulls and stubbornness are the stuff of legends.”</p><p>“Damn right.” BamBam said, stepping forward and offering his hand.</p><p>Chan took it and was pulled into a hug. </p><p>“I missed you.” Chan said, allowing himself to forget the pressing life altering shit that he had to deal with for a moment and enjoy having his friend back.</p><p>“I know. I pretty hard not to miss. One of my charms.”</p><p>“I hate you.”</p><p>“Nope.”</p><p>“You can’t just say ‘nope’ it doesn’t work like that.”</p><p>“It does now.”</p><p>Chan pushed himself away, while also pushing down a smile. </p><p>“Now I really hate you.”</p><p>“I’ve been stabbed and that hurt me more.” BamBam said dramatically, clutching his chest with a shit-eating grin that Chan had long missed without even realizing it.</p><p>“I will hit you.”</p><p>“And now he’s threatening me.”</p><p>Chan rolled his eyes, turning back to what he had been tasked with doing. </p><p>“We need to get this done.”</p><p>“Ay-ay, captain.”</p><p>Unfortunately for both of them, they wouldn’t get the chance to get anything done. Or even to get started. Or even prepare for what was to come, except for the split second Chan noticed a red dot hovering over BamBam’s chest, coming in through the window that he hadn’t gotten the chance to cover yet.</p><p>Except when everything seemed to slow down to a still.</p><p>Except when he could hear the blast. And the shatter of broken glass.</p><p>And the scream in his head that was delayed to his lips.</p><p>“Get down!” </p><p> The wind was pushed from his lungs as he dropped to the floor, and he heard BamBam hit the deck shortly after. He could barely feel the sharp pain in his ribs or his wrists from falling so abruptly as he soon become overstimulated by the chaos that had overtaken the quiet moment he had been having. </p><p>The world had lapsed into a cacophony of tiny explosions, echoes, and the smell of smoke and sawdust. And all there was to do was lay flat to the floorboards, eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the storm to pass. Hoping that the worst of it would miss him if any of it had to collide with his body.</p><p>And it did. </p><p>The bullets that rain down on him, clinking against the floor eerily loud in the already overloaded soundscape around him, suddenly stopped, replaced by a throbbing in his head and a ringing in his ears. </p><p>“Bam…are you…are you alright?” Chan mumbled, barely able to hear his own voice when he spoke. </p><p>He braced himself up on his arms to crawl over to where BamBam was on the floor a short distance away, still stock still. </p><p>Maybe he hadn’t registered that the shooting had stopped. Normal people fell back to their natural fear responses when in danger, but as far as Chan knew, and he knew pretty well, BamBam’s response had never been to freeze. His friend would fight if he had even the slightest chance and fly if there was no other way out. He was aggravatingly confrontational like that. Got them into quite a few scrapes at school, that Chan would have to talk him out of punishment for in the principal’s office to the point where the principal suggested he start a debate club.</p><p>“Bam, we have to move now.” He hissed, shaking BamBam’s shoulder a bit too roughly. “And I’m not carrying your ass…let’s go.”</p><p>There was no response. </p><p>“Now’s not the time to be a smartass, we have to go.” Chan pressed, shaking his friend even harder, panic rising in his voice. “Come on!”</p><p>He tugged his fingers back through his hair in frustration and fear and the sheer lack of any sense of control. </p><p>They were wet. And sticky. </p><p>His stomach dropped as his hands did.</p><p>Blood. </p><p>His palms were painted red with blood. </p><p>No. No. No. No. No.</p><p>“BamBam, come on! Get up!” He growled hoarsely, his entire body trembling as he forced his friend to turn over. </p><p>BamBam’s head flopped lifelessly to the side, glassy eyes staring straight ahead. </p><p>Seeing nothing. </p><p>Blood stained every fiber of fabric in BamBam’s shirt that had been torn apart by the spray of bullets to the point where Chan couldn’t even remember what color it had been originally. It had pooled across the wooden floors, seeping into every crease or space between the boards themselves. </p><p>“Bam…please…you’re going to be okay. I’ve got you. It’s going to be alright. We have people that can take care of you, alright? Just stay with me.” He whispered, pulling his friend’s body into his arms, his fingers pressing against BamBam’s neck to find a pulse. “I’ll fucking drive you to the hospital myself if I need to. Just be alright.”</p><p>Nothing. </p><p>His fingers scrabbled frantically toward BamBam’s wrists, snatching it up like a bird of prey that had found a field mouse. </p><p>“Be alright, Bam. Please be okay.”</p><p>He repeated the mantra as placed his hand just above BamBam’s nose and mouth. Maybe he was just too panicked that he’d missed the pulse-point. But surely he couldn’t mistake his breathing. </p><p>His friend had to be breathing. </p><p>He had to be. </p><p>Come on. </p><p>Breathe, damn it!</p><p>Not a breath, nor a heartbeat stirred the body.</p><p>Body. </p><p>Not a body. </p><p>BamBam.</p><p>His friend. </p><p>“Please.”</p><p>His voice wasn’t a voice anymore. It was a plea. A soundless prayer. </p><p>This couldn’t be it. </p><p>It wasn’t fair.</p><p>It wasn’t fair!</p><p>No. No. No. No.</p><p>He should’ve noticed sooner. </p><p>The light. </p><p>He should’ve known not to stand in front of the window. Why were they standing there? Why did he think they were safe? </p><p>Stupid. </p><p>Chan held BamBam against his chest. The warmth of his friend making it seem as though he were still alright. He wasn’t cold…</p><p>It was like Chan had been tempting fate. Like he’d stood outside in this storm with a metal rod held up to the sky, waiting for lightning to strike. Then being shocked when it did. With a malevolent malice. </p><p>“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He repeated, burying his face in BamBam’s hair, tears bubbling up. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I should have been there. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”</p><p>No matter how much he begged and pleaded, no prayer brought the life back to the unmoving figure clutched in his grasp. </p><p>He’d overdrawn his balance in favor from the universe. </p><p>And the universe had come to collect. </p><p>To remind Chan of the one thing he always tried to deny. </p><p>That he wasn’t a leader. He was a narcissist, just like his father, with a staggering god-complex like King Midas. One that would be his end. And the end of everyone and everything he had ever touched. </p><p>The golden fruit of his labor had finally gone rotten. </p><p>There were no more gods to appeal to, no deity to which he could offer up a barter or a trade. </p><p>He’d come to the inevitable, poetic conclusion.</p><p>He’d just always thought it would be him that would be the one to be cut down. </p><p>That the roles would be reversed. </p><p>It was never this way. Not even in his worst imaginings. </p><p>Never.</p><p>Perhaps that was just more evidence of his hubris. Thinking that it would be him that would get the tragic hero’s demise. </p><p>It wasn’t supposed to be BamBam. </p><p>Not then. </p><p>Not him.</p><p>Not after everything that had just been said. </p><p>Not after it had finally been made right.</p><p>This was the beginning of the end for him. Him and everything he ever touched. </p><p>His gold would turn to dust. </p><p>Right in his hands. Sand through his fingers.</p><p>And from the fear was born rage. Pure anger, in its white-hot form that seared his eyes so all he could see was red. No more gold would come from his fingertips. Just red. </p><p>The figures in black climbing through the shattered window. They were red in his eyes now. Faceless and red. Or they soon would be. </p><p>A free hand gripped a shard of glass, not even feeling the pain of his palm being torn apart by it’s jagged edges. </p><p>He laid BamBam down softly, apologizing once more before getting to his feet, watching himself get surrounded. Once the enemy had taken their place on this macabre stage, Chan cracked his next and fixed the one standing in front of him with a hard stare, a twisted smile tearing his lips into what had to be an inhuman snarl. </p><p>“My friend has seven bullet holes in his body. I’m guessing you don’t know if it was your bullet that killed him or not, which means I’m going to have to kill all of you because I like to play it safe and avoid letting whoever the killer is walk out of here.” He said lowly. “You’re all going to pay your debt here and now, and then you get your chance to apologize to him on your way to hell.”</p><p>His smile dropped. </p><p>“Who wants to go first?”</p><p>There was no way in heaven, on earth, or in hell that he would have any sort of odds at winning this. But what the hell? The last straw had been reached. And he was feeling the death wish he’d put on himself. </p><p>Maybe BamBam would be disappointed. Maybe Jisung would be as well. </p><p>But at that point, he’d lost too much to care. </p><p>And nothing was more dangerous than a suicidal person who didn’t care.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sooo....that was something I wrote. </p><p>I feel like I should apologize for it, even though from a writing standpoint I'm kind of happy about how it came out. </p><p>So, sorry about that. </p><p>I'll see y'all in two weeks, I guess.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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